Aetherion
by fullmetalgrigori
Summary: Steampunk London, 1895. Soul Eater is Death City's best in the accelocycle races, but when a talented new racer appears on the scene, he can't help but wonder if there's more to him than meets the eye. Written for ResBang 2014. Cover art by internetfeet
1. Prologue

**A/N: And here is my submission for Soul Eater ResBang 2014! I had a lot of fun writing this and hope you have as much fun reading. Thanks to the wonderful betas who helped me out, and to the amazing artist internetfeet, who provided artwork for the fic. The link should be up on my profile. **

**Warnings: dark themes, violence, minor character death, language**

**As this includes terms and slang from Victorian-era London, I have included a Glossary of Terms at the end of each chapter, if appropriate. **

**Again, I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Prologue<p>

The room was dark - the kind of dark reserved for the deepest of caves and the blackest of minds, the kind that might drive lesser men insane if left too long within its clutches. It was nearly a living thing, this darkness: swallowing, devouring, greedy in its reach… but not for her. She commanded it with a grace and indifference that was otherworldly, a grace that led some to believe that she had given life itself to the thick blackness that cloaked her regal form like an ermine cape of royalty. The mother of shades, they whispered. The mother of night, of gloom, of creeping things that slunk between shadows in the witching hour.

He knew better than those who spread the rumors. Knew better, but still felt the hairs on his neck prick up every time he was summoned. Facing her was no easy task, even for the most fearless of men.

A metallic clicking punctured the heavy atmosphere surrounding him, and though he had heard the sound countless times before, it remained as sinister and spine-tingling as ever. Spindly legs skittered along the floor, daring him to search out the source. His gaze did not waver, for he already knew what he would find near his feet. She liked to play these games with those in her employ, liked to weed out the weak and the unworthy. He was not unworthy.

"Have you found it?" Her voice was like a lover's whisper.

"No, my lady," he answered. He was not apologetic, did not make excuses. Those who did were often never found.

"I am counting on you," she reminded him. "_They_ are counting on you."

"Yes, my lady."

"You will not fail me." Her words were bitten off, though her voice did not lose that husky timbre. Unspoken was the promise of what would happen if he did.

"No, my lady." His jaw was set in determination. He had not failed her in the years he had served her; his record would not be tarnished for a task as important as this.

"Go." The shadows shuddered with her final command.

As the door clicked shut, she extended her hand. A soft weight lowered itself into her palm and rested there, delicate metal pulsing faintly with heat. She stroked it gently, running her fingers across wickedly sharp mandibles.

"Soon, my dears," she breathed. "It is almost time."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It was a foggy night in London, but that wasn't anything unusual. Fog was common in the bustling capital, a product of busy airship ports and churning zeppelin propellers. Clouds were shredded into soupy vapor on a near-daily basis, falling to cling to cobbled stones as the night descended. Thick, smog-filled air muffled the streets and gave the foolish the illusion that the city had long since succumbed to slumber.

Those who frequented Kentish Town knew better.

Muted footsteps echoed within the narrow confines of Mercer Road as a solitary figure made its way southeast. Wrapped in a worn leather duster, the figure paused on the street corner, head twisting left and right underneath a modified leather aviator cap. Flickering gas lamps lit the streets around him, revealing an empty road. The figure, seemingly satisfied, turned left to continue along at a steady pace.

Ten minutes later, he stopped before a dilapidated old zeppelin factory on Hilldrop Road. After confirming that he was still alone, the man raised one gloved hand and knocked four times quickly, then twice slowly.

The door swung open silently, allowing the stranger access inside. A large room full of old dusty drafting tables stretched out in front of him. This was the front room of the factory, where all the planning and design had once taken place. Now, it was merely the front entrance of a much different scheme.

As the man crossed the threshold into the workroom, a pair of dead gray eyes surveyed him carefully. "You are late."

The man in the duster scowled. "I'm perfectly on time and you know it, Sid."

The man called Sid shrugged. "But you _are_ cutting it close, Soul," he said, closing the door with a soft click.

Soul rolled his eyes. "I have never once been late for a race since I've joined, and I have no intention of starting now."

"I never missed a race," Sid said, a faraway look on his face. "Being punctual was just the kind of man I was."

Soul began winding his way between tables to the back of the workroom. "So you always say." The gas lights in the ceiling barely shone through the layers of dirt and grime, but Soul didn't need the light. He'd been through this warehouse so often that he could navigate the room blindfolded.

He heard Sid's footsteps behind him, the larger man's frame allowing him to easily catch up. Soul glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye. Sid wasn't looking very well, especially in the dim light. A question settled on Soul's tongue, but before he could ask it, a _crunch _cut through the stale air.

Sid swore and stumbled. His hand flew out to catch the edge of a nearby table, steadying himself just before he could fall. A grimace crossed his face as he braced a hand on his right knee and began to probe at his left. The skin rippled under the pressure, metal screeching in protest.

"How long has it been?" Soul asked.

"Two months," Sid grunted, brows drawn as he pressed this way and that. His kneecap bulged, then buckled, then settled into a relatively flat plain.

"That is disgusting," Soul said, making a face. "I don't know how you do that."

"When you're the way I am, nothing feels the same as before. Doesn't bother me much." His tone was nonchalant; after all, Sid had long since come to terms with the conditions of his second chance. Soul didn't envy him - dying alone was a huge burden to bear, but waking up to find that you were half-automaton was something he wouldn't have wished on anyone. Sid had handled it with remarkable grace, though, and after a few months of learning how to use his new body, he had returned to work with nary a hiccup.

Sid's friends had taken a little longer to get used to his new appearance, but that was hardly a surprise. Sid had gone from a bulky, dark-skinned man to a bulky, blue-tinted cyborg. Stein had said it had something to do with a faulty compound in the synthetic skin he had created, but Soul hadn't paid much attention past that point. Whatever the reason, Sid's new under-oxygenated appearance - paired with his dead gray eyes - had those who met him at night believing they'd met with the walking dead.

Shaking his head clear of morbid thoughts, Soul resumed their conversation. "Two months since maintenance? That's not bad."

"Not as good as I would like," Sid replied.

"Stein's still working the kinks out. Probably got distracted with a new model or something."

Sid barked out a laugh. "Wouldn't surprise me. Now hurry it up, kid, the races are waiting." He picked up the pace. Though his knee held together, it squeaked every other step.

Soul sniggered as he caught up. "Need some oil for that, rustbucket?"

"Very funny."

"I thought so."

Sid pulled an ancient looking key out of his trouser pocket as he reached the back door and fiddled with the rusting latch. With a squeal of metal - one that sounded not unlike Sid's knee - the door swung open. He stepped aside to let the younger man pass. Soul turned left down the hallway beyond but before he could go any farther, Sid asked, "Thompsons have your axel?"

He nodded. "Liz said she could boost the steam output and make it run faster."

The larger man chuckled and shook his head. "That's a dangerous promise to make, coming from the Thompsons."

"I know. But Liz said she would keep it away from Patti."

Sid grinned. "Hopefully she was successful."

"Yes. I'd really rather not be boiled in the middle of the race." He waved a hand and continued down the hallway.

"Ah, but it would make for some splendid entertainment," Sid called after him.

Soul flashed a rude hand gesture over his shoulder. The older man's laughter echoed through the hallway as the door swung shut, leaving him in the dim gloom of the hallway. Low-burning wall sconces flickered every few feet, casting warped shadows down the corridor. The concrete floor was rough beneath his shoes, but it was in remarkably good condition considering the age of the warehouse.

Doors sporting peeled paint and stained lacquer branched off from the main hallway, but it was the one propped open at the end of the hallway that drew his attention. The erratic clang of metal on metal found his ears, followed soon after by the hiss of flame and squeal of steam. The sounds were familiar and soothing; Soul found himself grinning at the commotion. Steam curled on the floor as he approached, nipping at his ankles like a cat greeting its master. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when an automaton version of that very same creature slunk across the threshold. It wound around Soul's feet and emitted a yowl not unlike the clashing of gears before leading him inside.

The first thing anyone noticed upon entering the assembly-room-turned-workshop was the sign - it was a massive thing made of steel, copper, and bronze, tacked up on the far wall near the ceiling. A gray backdrop hosted clockwork lettering made of gears, wires, pipes, and whatever other scraps its creator had found lying around. As jumbled as the parts were, they seamlessly flowed together to announce: Thompson Sisters' Accelocycle Refurbishment and Repair.

The room held two occupants, as it usually did. The younger of the two, Patti, was seated at a low worktable as she tinkered with a steam valve. Doing away with social proprieties, she was clad in men's work clothes, her trademark velvet bowler hat perched jauntily over short blonde hair. The older Thompson, Liz, was kneeling behind an accelocycle, wrench in one hand, oil rag in the other. Unlike her sister, she wore a leather work corset that was no doubt loosened for comfort. In other aspects she was dressed similarly, though she'd forgone the hat and chosen instead to tie her hair up in a messy knot. A few strands of hair fell out as she looked up, drifting down to stick to her cheek. She set down her tools to brush them away as she stood.

"You're cutting it close," she said, but it was with a smile on her face.

Soul shrugged. "Wanted to make sure that you could get it finished. Thought you might need the extra time."

"Since when have I ever needed extra time on your cycle?" Liz crossed her arms and lifted one eyebrow.

"Since the last time Patti got her hands on it," he said, gesturing to the girl in question. She looked up from her fiddling and shot him a wide smile - one that did nothing to quell his suspicions.

Liz rolled her eyes. "I told you I'd keep her away from it, didn't I?"

"You did. You also told me that the day I nearly boiled in my seat."

Patti guffawed loudly as her sister winced. "Alright, that was a mistake. I really didn't know she would switch out the steam intake valve. But she didn't touch it this time, I promise."

Soul looked over to Patti. "You didn't touch my axel, did you?"

Patti shook her head vigorously, nearly displacing the bowler hat. "No. Sissy wouldn't let me. But next time…" She held up the part in her hand and wiggled her eyebrows. "Could make it really fast!"

Soul looked to Liz. "Don't you dare let her."

"I won't. Anything she tests will be on the cycles we've got. Yours is off limits."

"Better be," he growled. Patti merely laughed again and returned to her tinkering. Soul huffed in irritation. He missed the days when his unusual looks and gruff demeanor actually intimidated those around him. Now he had to settle with scaring the knobby-kneed kids who sold papers on street corners (and that didn't quite bring the same sense of satisfaction).

"Quit pouting and just take her," Liz said, a smirk on her face as she gestured to an accelocycle tucked in the corner. The lurid orange paint was unmistakable; Soul felt something unclench in his chest. She _looked_ alright, at least.

"I wish you'd let me take the paint-sprayer to her," Liz said wistfully, eyeing the axel in distaste as he went over to inspect it. "I don't understand why you insist on that horrible color."

Soul grinned as he tapped the metal casing of the steam engine. "Want everyone to know who's beatin' 'em."

Liz rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised? Now get out of here; the others are waiting."

"I'm going, I'm going." He flexed his fingers on the cracked leather handgrips, relishing in the familiar wear and tear. They could keep their shining chrome and polished brass - Soul would choose his battered axel any day. Even if she didn't look like much, she had it where it counted. Speed over style - that was how Soul won his axel races.

Accelocycles (or axels, as most riders called them) had popped into existence a little over twenty years ago, around the time he had been born. While they were a much more convenient way to travel around "Death City" (London's nickname among the lower class), they never became as popular as the steam carriage. Accelocycles were faster, yes, but they also required exposing oneself to the elements, something the gentry were leery to do. But for the Underground, it was an entirely different story.

In the more unsavory parts of London, in the back alleys and secret meeting rooms of the low-down and dirty, axel racing quickly became the main resource of betting pools. With at least one race every week, loan sharks and crime lords had a field day with the extra income raked in by axel races. Even the peerage had taken notice, and despite their disdain for the commercial use of the machine, it became commonplace for minor nobles and lords to sponsor groups of racers (or leagues) as a way of proving that they, too, could dirty their hands. Though most racers wanted nothing to do with high-class money and scoffed at the foolish who thought they could play with fire, no one could deny that it was a convenient way to keep the races running. And so leagues were formed, tournaments were arranged - all of which were very much illegal.

The coppers tried for years to shut the races down, but the Underground numbered too many and remained too cunning - races changed tracks every week, warehouses filled and emptied overnight, money changed hands with nary a word. Finally, having spent far too much for far too little results, Scotland Yard settled on a controversial idea: if they couldn't stop the races altogether, wouldn't it be better to simply legalize and regulate them? Wouldn't it be better to instill rules on tournaments to protect those participating, to place caps on betting to control monetary flow, to allow the nobles free reign in sponsorship?

For that was the main problem the coppers had: no one wanted to arrest a member of the gentry, if they even could. It was wiser, they rationalized, to legalize the races rather than to attempt persecuting nobility.

It seemed to be the best solution for all parties involved: racers no longer risked their freedom, betters could keep their business, the peerage could sponsor as they liked, and the coppers could boast about lowered crime figures while actually putting in much less work than they had before. It was a simple fix for a not-so-simple problem.

Soul had appeared on the scene five years after the races were legalized. His original intention had been to enter as a solo racer, but after two months of fumbled axel repairs and clumsy bandaging, he'd started to reconsider. League membership would open up doors Soul hadn't known he would need. Grudgingly, he'd accepted the necessity and started reviewing his options. Looking for potential leagues had nearly given him an ulcer… until he'd found Shibusen.

Paid for by the powerful and esteemed Lord Mortimer (or "Lord Death," as he'd been christened), Shibusen was among the best of the best. If one belonged to Shibusen, cycles and their maintenance were guaranteed, along with entry into any race one wanted. And at the time, that was all Soul had needed.

He hadn't counted on the invitation to join Spartoi, Shibusen's elite branch. He also hadn't counted on actually _liking_ his new teammates.

A thundering _crash_ and the grinding of gears jolted him back to the present. "Felix! Get back here, you cussed cat!"

He peered over his shoulder to find the automaton perched on a shelf high above Liz's head. It looked terribly smug for a machine as it surveyed its handiwork - namely, the pile of scrap metal it had managed to knock to the floor. Soul sniggered under his breath as he turned back to the door. He wasn't sure what exactly Stein had done to the cat, but it seemed eerily similar to its creator.

Liz was still cussing up a storm as he passed underneath the rolled-up, corrugated steel door of the garage and into the massive, two-story common room beyond. Patti was laughing wildly and congratulating the cat, who was purring like a clock. Soul shook his head wryly. Mad, the lot of them. But they were brilliant with an axel, and that was all he cared about.

The proof of their genius lined the right wall of the warehouse: seven axels, all in varying shades and designs, all at the top of their class. Soul propped his at the end, next to a chunky cycle painted in shades of gray and gold. One would have to be hard-pressed to find a more diverse collection of axels - and that included their owners.

A steady _thud-thud-thwack_ drew his attention to the back right corner, where another Spartoi member was engaged in his traditional pre-race routine. A rusty box-unit was bolted to the floor, its tarnished arms creaking with every strike it gave. The training automaton was only programmed with a few boxing patterns, as it wasn't meant for much more than light practice. Thankfully, that was all its opponent - a young dark-skinned man with feathered dreadlocks - needed. Soul shoved his hands in the pockets of his duster and ambled over to greet him.

"Soul," the boxer grunted.

"Kilik. Need a hand?"

Kilik paused and backed up a half-step, eyeing the box-unit carefully. "No. I'm almost finished." He resumed his attack, fists finding the padded automaton with uncanny accuracy.

Soul nodded. "Don't work yourself too hard. I'd hate for tonight to be an easy win."

Kilik's mouth quirked up in a small smirk. "You're an arrogant ass."

Soul waved a hand in dismissal. "So they say. Don't take too long."

"I won't."

A burst of raucous laughter erupted from the center of the room, where a mismatched assortment of furniture housed the remainder of Spartoi. Three girls and three boys dressed in different versions of riding gear clustered around a low table covered in a chaotic spread of papers, chattering and pointing at the figures written upon them. One of them, a boy sporting a shaved head and tinted goggles, held up a sheet and scowled at it. "There must be some mistake…"

"No mistake, Ox. You're just nothing compared to a god like me!" The blue-haired racer sitting next to him cackled loudly.

"Pretty words from someone ranked just one position higher." Ox's rescue came from a boy with a head of dark, spiked hair. He, too, wore tinted goggles.

"Harvar's got a point," a female racer with dark hair and eyes pointed out. She sat next to a girl with bright pink hair; the two exchanged knowing looks as the two boys started squabbling.

"Black*Star." A taller, Asian girl touched the now-scowling racer's arm gently. "They are bets and nothing more. They do not predict who will win, yes?"

Black*Star crossed his arms. "They should be acknowledging my superiority."

"Then you will prove them wrong," she said, a small smile on her face. "You can win this race. I believe in you."

The pink-haired girl spoke up. "She says that every time, but nothing changes."

Black*Star swelled in indignation, but his attention was diverted when he caught sight of Soul. "Oi! Soul! Come pay respect to your god!"

The white-haired racer rolled his eyes. "Bottom of the betting list again?"

"No. That honor goes to Ox." The dark-haired racer, a girl called Jacqueline, snorted and shared a smirk with Kim, her short-tempered partner.

"Again?"

"Black*Star's just above him, then Tsubaki," Harvar drawled. "Kim and Jacqueline are next, then me. You're first and Kilik is second."

"You're slipping, Eclair." Kilik, having abandoned his box-unit, was unfurling the white cloth from his hands as he crossed the room.

Harvar glared at him. "Not for long, Rung."

Before any more arguments could break out, a door on the left side of the garage creaked open, revealing a face swathed in bandages. "Ah, good, you're all here. Race starts in five. Get your cycles and get to the start."

"Nygus!" Ox called. "How does it look tonight?"

"Worried you'll prove the gamblers right?" Soul couldn't say for sure, but he could swear that she was smirking under her wrappings.

Ox's face was stormy. "They do not know what they're talking about."

"Of course," she said smoothly. "But to answer your question: there _are_ a surprising number of new solo racers tonight. Be careful." She nodded to them briskly before disappearing back behind the door.

Black*Star rubbed his hands together in glee. "Then it's time to show these solos who their god is!" He sprang up from his seat and ran across the room to his cycle - a large sky blue monstrosity coated in sloppily scrawled black stars. Tsubaki followed after him, her plain cream-white axel unassuming beside his.

Kilik claimed the gold and gray axel next to Soul's; Kim and Jacqueline's were pink and purple respectively. Harvar's was a complex mess of silver and gold embellishments; Ox's was covered in complicated spiral shapes. But however loud the designs were, three things stood out clearly on each cycle: the racer's alias, the Shibusen skull, and the Spartoi symbol.

Spartoi consisted of seven racers: Eater, Thunder, Lightning, Dupré, Icantatrix, Camellia, Black*Star, and Ox. The aliases were a way of protecting identity in a sport that, while technically legal, could still be deadly off-track. There were those in the underworld who would pay a great deal of money to ensure that races ended in their favor, but they were warded off by that little mark of Shibusen.

Shibusen was unique in that it was founded not to make money, but to pull starving youth off the street and give them a purpose. Lord Death cared deeply for what he considered to be his charges: not only did they receive the best in equipment and maintenance, but they were allowed to keep a significant part of whatever they earned. In turn, they were expected to do well and to help provide for whatever else Shibusen might require. For a racing league, the deal was more than generous. And it was all included with the little white skull printed on the engine casing of each axel. On the Spartoi cycles, a second symbol joined it: a white orb with a triangle attached to the side and, in the middle as added decoration, a distinctively jagged smirk.

It was a mark that would let the solos know exactly who they had to beat that night. There would be a few other Shibusen racers, yes, but Spartoi was the standard the solos had to match, and Soul knew from experience that very few of them would.

The night's race was slated to start on Camden Road, a stone's throw from the Shibusen warehouse. Hidden behind a second corrugated steel door was a narrow back alley that snaked between tightly packed buildings until it joined the main road just a few blocks behind the start. They emerged onto the street like a pack of feral cats, drawing the attention of all those gathered for the race.

Soul guessed at around thirty racers that night, all crowded at the start line as they jostled for better positions. Some stilled as they caught sight of Spartoi slowly creeping forward to join their ranks, emerging from the low-lying fog like phantoms from a storybook. Soul's lips twitched as he caught sight of a few slacked-jawed solos, their eyes following the famed league's every movement. Not everyone was caught under the spell, however, and there were more than a few sneers and catcalls thrown their way as Spartoi joined the ranks of those gathered.

A loud whoop came from the sidewalk, where a large crowd of spectators had congregated. Clusters of young men with shirts untucked and sleeves rolled past their elbows pointed to different racers and loudly placed wagers with the greasy betting sharks that all-too-happily jotted down numbers in their ledgers. A few older men eyed them distastefully, but soon became lost in their own jovial conversations.

Dotted among the crowd were figures hidden behind voluminous cloaks, as though silk and velvet could hide the delicate curls and powder-white faces beneath. It was fashionable among society girls to rebel by sneaking out at night to watch the races - the more daring among them even placed a coin or two on the results.

Two girls huddled near the front tittered as Soul passed them. Before he could curl his lip and glare at them, an elbow connected with his ribs.

"What?!" he snarled, whipping his head around.

Black*Star grinned widely, disregarding the racers he nearly hit in his effort to keep up with Soul. "The ladies love you."

"The ladies should stay home," he muttered, ducking his head as they passed another cloaked figure.

"You should be glad they're here. It means there's a bigger audience for me!" He let out a loud whoop, drawing jeers from the crowd. "See? They love me."

A narrow path opened up between two racers; Soul and Black*Star slipped through with ease, ignoring the curses spat at them. Ripples of movement spread throughout the crowd as the rest of Spartoi took their places; their skill and reputation allowed them to navigate the crowded street with ease. While some considered Spartoi to be overrated, no one could deny their ability.

Black*Star scanned the crowd. "Nygus was right. 'Lotta solos tonight."

Indeed, there was a conspicuous absence of league marks on quite a few axels. "Looks like it."

"Ready to show these commoners what Spartoi's about?"

"Always."

They grinned at each other as the booming voice of a race official cut through the roar of the axels and the chatter of the crowd. "Racers at attention."

With one hand, Soul tugged the goggles down from the brim of his cap to rest snugly over his face. The races weren't nearly as fun with eyes watering from the wind, or worse, if one ended up with a bug in one's eye. It hadn't happened to him personally, but they hadn't let Ox live the incident down for months. As he fit the goggles against his face, the racer next to him hunched over his cycle with tense shoulders. Soul tapped his handlebars with loose fingers and smirked. It wasn't tension that won a race, it was flexibility and adaptability - something he had in spades.

"Racers ready."

Rolling his palms around the grips, he twisted once to rev the engine. Axel wheels dug into the pavement beneath him, anxious to race. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few riders glance at him nervously. Smiling to himself, he fit his right foot into the metal stirrup on the side of his axel. The toes of his left barely brushed the pavement to keep his cycle upright, ready to push off at a moment's notice.

Cycle ready, he looked up to take in the route before him. Camden Road lay bathed in the remnants of the foggy haze, axel headlights casting it in a sickly yellow hue. The flickering orange flame of the gaslamps brushed the edges, as though dancing in anticipation.

In the last few seconds of stillness, Soul's gut coiled like a tightly wound spring. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, a pounding melody paired with his engine's harmony.

Any moment now…

_Crack._

The handlebar slid easily under his hand as his toes left the ground for the stirrup; at the same time, his greedy axel sprang forward wildly, leaving Soul's breath in the wind.

Damn, Liz hadn't lied. This was something else.

Of course, he wasn't alone on the road. Dozens of racers crowded on either side of him, and soon Black*Star was lost among the chaos. Even with hair as distinctive as his, it was difficult to pick out anyone in a surge of axels such as this. They were like a tidal wave, flowing and ebbing and crashing forward with savage urgency in a fight for that extra inch of road. Engines conversed in their growling tongue, roaring and hissing steam and challenging each other even as they were coaxed on by their riders.

The tails of Soul's duster snapped like whips behind him; strands of white hair pulled free from his cap and stroked the side of his cheek. The wind, while bearable at a walking pace, was near-arctic at these speeds. He hunched down to minimize his contact with the biting air, the warm metal of the steam engine beneath him seeping through his clothes to warm his core. Molded to the cycle as he was, it sometimes became hard to tell where it ended and he began. In those moments, Soul felt as though he might never detach from the axel - that pipes and veins, oil and blood, pistons and sinews - all might mold together into one flowing design. In those moments, Soul knew without a doubt that he was unbeatable.

Buildings shrouded in shadows flashed past him in a blur, hidden from the weak light of the gaslamps. Only the street remained in view, giving the impression that it'd been plucked from the world around it. The sun would rise in the morning, revealing the road's true place within the city, but for now it existed solely for the battling racers.

Metal winked sharply as Kilik's bulky axel drew up alongside him, its rider flashing a cheeky grin. Soul bared his teeth in a less friendly gesture as they both shot forward into a tug-of-war for the (very slight) lead.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled suddenly as a new voice entered their conversation. Silver and gold blended together in a swirl of paint on Soul's left to parallel the gray and gold on his right. Unlike Kilik, Harvar spared him no glance as they drew level.

Soul shot a quick look behind as Kilik gradually eased to the side - with no other racers in real competition with them, there was no reason to keep up the pressure. A few feet remained between them, allowing for more maneuverability as they battled for first.

Mind racing, Soul reviewed his options. He knew Kilik favored the straightaways for passing, and that Harvar preferred unexpected, unpredictable moves. As for himself, Soul took his opportunities when he saw them - and the upcoming turn onto the Outer Circle of Regent's Park provided him with just that.

As it stood, Kilik had the advantage in the inner turn, but Soul had an ace up his sleeve that would either guarantee him either a win or a spot on one of Stein's frigid medical tables. It was a risk, but with Liz's modifications, Soul felt invincible.

The road began to curve slightly to the right, and Soul made his move. Steam bellowed from his teammates' cycles, shrieking in surprise as Soul pivoted his left foot to tap the brakes. Sparks skipped across the cracks in the stones below, some leaping up to bite at his duster as he threw his weight hard to the right. Down his cycle went, teetering precariously as the back wheel flew out in a hard turn. Before he could hit the ground, however, Soul squeezed the acceleration in a white-knuckle grip. For a terrifying split second, it seemed like his axel might give out and surrender to the ground, leaving Soul with a battered body and a bruised ego. But just as his heart decided to take up residence in his throat, the steam exhaust pipes roared to life and pushed him upright, sending him flying past Kilik and Harvar. Both a laugh and a shouted curse followed after him as they faded into the distance.

Save for the rumble of his axel and the howl of the wind, the street was quiet. The night-shrouded trees of the park waved their needle-like branches from his left as he began his lap alone. Of course, knowing his teammates as well as he did, he wouldn't be alone for long. But he could take a moment to appreciate the stillness and the quiet before that moment came.

It was to be broken much too soon. At first he thought the splash of green to be one of the park's trees still clinging to the remainder of its summer leaves, but as it slowly crept closer, he saw it for what it really was: a slim, small rider clinging to a slim, small axel painted a deep shade of emerald. White curling letters spelled out his alias - Meister - but no league marks could be found anywhere on the engine casing.

Soul's eyes widened behind the crystal-clear glass of his goggles. How had Harvar and Kilik been so easily overtaken by a solo? It wasn't unheard of for an unaffiliated racer to place, of course - Soul himself had done it several times before joining Spartoi - but to see a serious contender so soon in the race was rare.

Seconds later he was pressed to his cycle again, fingers coaxing the throttle to give him just a little more. Soon enough the solo had stolen his way into the inner corner and Soul was cursing letting his guard down. Desperate to gain back the position he'd had, Soul leaned to the left, closing the slight gap between them. But while most solos might have succumbed to the pressure and fallen back, this one stayed strong, turning his head to glare defiantly at Soul.

Tinted goggles colored his eyes a vivid bottle green while the collar of his riding coat hid the lower half of his face from view. Wisps of blond hair escaped his riding cap, but there were no other distinguishing features for Soul to read. Only those eyes, narrowed in an unspoken challenge that he was all-too-happy to accept.

He bared his teeth in a savage grin and leaned in a little closer, but Meister would not yield. They were so close that their thighs were nearly touching, but neither backed down. Meister shot him another look and to his surprise, nudged his axel even closer to Soul, forcing him to swerve. In an instant Soul closed the gap, but Meister had already taken the space he needed to clear the turn, wheel just sneaking past the hard bump of the curb.

...Well, Meister was talented, Soul had to give him that - as much as it pained him to do so. Those types of turns were difficult to pull off for even the most talented of racers, let alone a new solo. For Meister had to be new - with his racing skill and no league affiliation, there was no chance for the alternative.

But despite his talent, the fact still remained: Meister was new, and he was a solo. With Kilik and Harvar no doubt gaining ground behind them, Meister was about to receive a lesson in how Spartoi did things.

Halfway between the turns, the ground quaked as two axels roared into place behind the two in the lead. If it were any other straight portion of road, they might have pulled alongside, but with two turns to go, any proximity to the inside curve was hoarded greedily.

Soul could feel Kilik and Harvar chomping at the bit, impatient to leap out and claim their places. But as much as they wanted it, not once did their tires touch the ones in front of them. Soul had seen the aftermath of dirty tricks like that before, and it wasn't something one could just walk away from. Not a lot of crashes happened in the circuit, but in his eyes, the risk only added to the exhilaration.

Something in the air changed as they rounded the next corner. The final turn was to the right, giving Soul the advantage on the last stretch of Camden Road. Their little cluster glided across the road to prepare, Meister practically glued to his side to keep either rider behind them from sneaking through the gap. Soul's careful gaze scanned the curb before him, and without any thought to the racers around him, slid around neatly without losing position.

The moment the road straightened out, Kilik and Harvar roared out beside Meister. Four in a row they lined the street, gaslamps illuminating a tunnel of light leading to the finish. The watching crowds erupted into cheers as they caught sight of the four, but Soul paid them no heed. The only thing on his mind was the best way to claim the place that was rightfully his.

The question was: who would make their move first? Too early and the cycle would burn out, too late and, well… the outcome of that was obvious. Some racers tried to quantify the moment, but Soul knew instinct was a much better guide. Different races called for different timing, so he'd play it by ear. In that moment, it told him to pause, that his time had yet to come.

The thought had barely come to him when Meister's cycle leaped forward eagerly, nearly clearing the line by a full axel-length. Soul's heart took up residence in his throat - had his hesitation just cost him the race? But he needn't have worried. As quickly as he'd shot forward, Meister dropped back, hand hovering over the accelerator nervously. It certainly didn't seem like the rider had made the decision to move - perhaps his cycle had been emulating a wild stallion in its eagerness. Meister quickly regained control, but the bold move cost him as he fell back half a length. Kilik smoothly took his place and Harvar followed, leaving Meister behind.

And then there were three, and Soul knew that this was his chance to whittle it down to one. Again and again he pumped the throttle, milking the engine for all she was worth. The metal beneath his thighs grew uncomfortably warm as steam poured from the exhaust, replacing the fog that had been burned away at the start of the race. Wheels bit into the ground and pushed him forward; valves hissed their encouragement as they spilled their contents onto the street behind him. Gaslamps left streaks of orange in their wake as he flew past, and for a thrilling moment he thought that he might push off from the ground and take to the starry skies.

A vibrant white line vanished underneath him, though its meaning didn't register until blurred silhouettes crowded around him. His heel pushed back on the brake and he slowed, heart pumping furiously, pupils dilated, adrenaline clamoring for more. The end of a race was a strange balance of exhilaration and disappointment, one he'd not yet gotten used to, even after five years. He didn't think he ever wanted to get used to it.

He pivoted to face the finish and settled back onto his axel, arms crossed over the handlebars. Time to see how the others stacked up.

Kilik erupted from the steam Soul had left behind like a bullet shot from a gun. He flew past the white-haired racer, stirring a breeze before he, too, wheeled around to watch the finals. His chest heaved in exertion, the smile on his face white and gleaming.

"Harvar hit some trouble," he said between breaths. "That solo is good."

Soul grunted noncommittally. Whatever he'd thought of Meister during the race, he was leery of revealing his thoughts to anyone else.

Silver and green shot across simultaneously, each branching off in different directions after crossing the line. Harvar skidded to a stop before them and ripped one of his gloves off, throwing it to the ground with a scowl on his face. There was no question then as to who had taken third.

Meister, as though sensing his ire, avoided looking in Spartoi's direction as he checked over his axel.

Soul looked back to Harvar. "You're slipping."

"I had him," Harvar growled.

"That's why he came in third, yeah?" Kilik prodded. He dodged neatly as Harvar took a half-hearted swing towards his shoulder. "Have to try better than that, Eclair."

"Shut it."

Soul nudged Kilik and nodded toward the finish. "Oi, calm down. Someone's coming."

"Bet you a crown it's Jackie," Kilik said confidently.

"I'll take that," Harvar said.

A loud whoop preceded a black cycle and a head of blue hair; Kilik went slack-jawed at the sight. "Well, I'll be damned..." He scratched his head as Harvar held out a hand. Black*Star and Tsubaki pulled up to the group just as Kilik scowled at him and swatted his hand away. "I don't have it _now_, you imbecile. I'll pay you tomorrow."

Harvar merely raised a brow, but nodded eventually as Black*Star clapped Soul on the back. "You see that, Soul?" the exuberant racer crowed. "That's what a god looks like."

"Apparently," Soul said dryly, but his lips twitched into a small smile. "Where's-"

Pink and purple joined their group as Kim and Jackie finished in a tie looking less than pleased. Kim ripped her cap off her head as she climbed off her cycle, pink hair a wild mess. "Not one goddamned word," she snarled, pointing to Black*Star. "Not. One."

Black*Star laughed. "I told you, didn't I? I _told_ you they got it wrong!"

"You beat us, alright?" Jackie said, mouth pursed like she'd been sucking a lemon. "Do _not_ start yammering on about it."

Of course, this was Black*Star, and asking him that was like asking the world to stop turning. Soul shook his head as his bull-headed friend opened his mouth to no doubt shove his foot through - but before he could, Spartoi's last member crossed the finish and skidded to a halt next to Kim. Ox hurriedly climbed off and rushed to Kim's side. "Is everything alright?" he asked, peering down at her cycle with concern. "I noticed your axel going slower than usual; perhaps Liz should take a look at it?"

The sound that arose from Kim's throat could only be described as a cat's yowl. Ox scrambled back, apologizing profusely, and the tension dissipated.

"Back to the warehouse, yes?" Tsubaki asked, rolling her neck and stretching. She was all languid grace as she moved - sometimes Soul wondered how she might place if she hadn't decided to stick with Black*Star.

Her partner lit up. "Anyone for a round of drinks?"

Kilik shook his head. "I need to get back to the twins. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon."

Black*Star waved a hand at him. "You don't count; you never get drinks."

Kilik placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me. And yes, I'll have the crown tomorrow," he told Harvar. Stepping back to his cycle, he flung a leg over and straddled the seat as he pushed it in reverse. Tossing off a salute, he turned and drove back down the road, turning into the alley and disappearing.

"Anyone else care to decline?"

"I believe I will take my leave as well," Ox said, eyeing Kim warily. "I, too, will be stopping by tomorrow for my earnings."

Black*Star snorted. "What earnings?"

The group's laughter had Ox's cheeks turning pink as he stuttered his protest. Soul, still chuckling, pushed himself upright; the motion did not go unnoticed by Tsubaki. "You will not be joining us?" she asked.

Soul shook his head. "Not tonight."

Black*Star snorted. "Old codger."

"Oh, go powder your hair."

"I plan to."

"See you tomorrow," Soul said, nodding to the group as he turned his axel around. A few calls of goodbye followed after him, though most were quickly becoming drawn into the brewing tension between Black*Star and Kim.

Soul was nearly out of the crowd when that damned green axel caught his eye again. Meister was no longer kneeling next to it; instead, his hands tucked a small cloth bag into a pocket of his riding coat - prize money. Spartoi themselves never collected; the higher-ups gathered the earnings for them and distributed the winnings the next day, after taking whatever was due the league. Solos, however, retrieved theirs on their own.

Meister looked up and saw him, and while still concealed behind his collar, his gaze locked with Soul's across the crowd. His eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed in an expression that was hard for Soul to mistake:

Meister was planning to race again. And there could be no doubt as to who he would be targeting.

* * *

><p>Kentish Town was not the only district to be visited by a mysterious personage that night. As the dark of night began to give way to the lighter hues of impending dawn, a slight figure barely visible in the watery light of the gaslamps wheeled a compact axel around the corner of Upper Belgrave Street.<p>

This stranger did not look around, but kept his head down and walked with a determined weight to his step, for there was no risk of being followed here. Rarely anyone ventured out into Belgravia in the dead of night.

The silhouette stopped just as Upper Belgrave Street became Eaton Square, where a wrought-iron fence topped with curling fleur-de-lis extended out from a majestic, white stucco house on the corner. Leaving the axel propped on its side, the man fumbled in the pockets of his forest green riding coat for a key. The gate unlocked, he rolled his axel inside and locked it shut behind him.

A thin stone path cut through the back gardens and led to a small wooden shed sheltered underneath the branches of a yellow-gold sweet chestnut tree. Again he produced a key, this one smaller and stained from age. The shed doors creaked in protest as they opened, hinges shedding rust flakes like snow. The axel rider stilled for a tense minute. When no alarm was raised, he unfroze slowly and began to gingerly maneuver his cycle inside the cramped shed. Various gardening tools clanked and rattled on the walls as he wrestled with a thick tarp piled to the side. With a grunt, he heaved the cloth over the axel until it was completely covered - not the best disguise, but it worked well enough to suit his needs.

After ensuring that the axel remained in a sturdy position, the rider backed out of the shed and locked it behind him. Now free from his burden, his steps were quick and light as he followed the garden path past skeletal beds of bellflowers, lavender, and forget-me-nots. A crisp, pre-dawn breeze ruffled the tails of his coat and cooled the sweat drying on his neck, and he sighed in relief. It may have been approaching mid-autumn, but the coat was boiled wool and the races called for levels of adrenaline that produced no small amount of perspiration.

The path widened as it reached a pair of double French doors at the back of the house. A third key had them swinging open with nary a whisper - unlike the shed, these doors were oiled weekly. Before entering the sunroom beyond, the rider bent down, unclasped the silver buckles of his thick leather boots, and pulled them off. Clad only in stockings, the rider tiptoed inside, boots dangling from his hands as he gently closed the doors behind him.

"It is quite late for a midnight stroll, isn't it?"

Starting violently, half-formed curses spilling from his lips, the rider jerked around to see the silhouette of a familiar purple-haired woman faintly illuminated by the gas-lit lamp in her hand. "Blair," the rider said, voice breathy and high. "What are you doing awake?"

"I think Blair should be the one asking that." The woman turned and beckoned with one hand as she padded silently across the sunroom and through the door to the main corridor.

The rider scrambled to collect the boots he'd dropped in his surprise and followed after the bobbing purple and black skirts, no longer concerned with silence. Blair led him up two flights of stairs to the third floor, down the hall and to the last door to the right. The rider dropped his boots just inside the room and discarded his cap, goggles, and pulled down the collar around his mouth to reveal feminine features. Wisps of ashy blonde hair escaped a tight bun, framing forest green eyes and pale pink lips - a delicate appearance for a not-so-delicate girl.

"I am perfectly fine, Blair," she said quietly as she began pulling hairpins from her head. "You needn't have waited for me."

"Yes, Blair did," the woman said, placing the gas-light on a table in the room. She busied herself with the wall sconces as the rider discarded her coat. "Blair had to make sure Lady Albarn arrived home safely."

"I've told you before, call me Maka."

A thin smile touched Blair's lips. "Very well, Miss Maka."

Maka smiled too at the familiar exchange. "Thank you."

"Of course," Blair dismissed. "Since Miss Maka will not look out for herself, she needs someone else to do it for her."

Maka scowled, but there was no heat in her glare. "I was perfectly fine."

Faster than she could blink, Blair reached out and poked her upper thigh. Dull pain flared beneath her skin and Maka hissed in discomfort. "See?" Blair continued as though nothing had happened. "This is why Miss Maka has Blair."

"I did not know that was there," Maka said absently, prodding her own leg and imagining the purple bruise that lay underneath the fabric. "Where did that even come from?"

Blair's nimble fingers tugged at the laces of the stained workshirt Maka had stolen from the laundry earlier that day. "The races can be dangerous. Blair hopes Miss Maka knows what she is doing."

"Would I have placed third if I did not?"

Blair reared back in shock. "Third? But Blair thought this was Miss Maka's first race?"

Maka grinned widely. "It was. Which reminds me, I have something for you. There, in my coat pocket."

Blair untucked the shirt from Maka's trousers before crossing the room to rifle through the coat. When she turned back, a velvet pouch rested in the flat of her hand. "What is this?"

"Open it and find out."

Blair upended the pouch in her hand and stared at the small coins that tumbled out. She looked up in confusion.

"Five crowns," Maka said, though she knew Blair would have already counted and recounted the pile. "That was the prize for third place. It is yours."

To her credit, Blair didn't so much as blink. "Blair cannot accept this. It's-"

"Two weeks wages, I know. But I do not have any use for it. I wish you to have it."

Blair's face shone in the dim light. "Miss Maka is too kind."

"You deserve it, since you put in all that extra work looking out for me." Maka's voice was teasing, but the affection was genuine.

"Thank you," Blair said, her eyes back to their usual shade of knowing mischief.

"Though… is there something you could do for me?"

"Anything."

"Do not spend it on something my papa will see." Maka's mouth soured as she said the words.

Blair looked torn, but nodded. "Blair will do her best." She pocketed the coins and turned to the rustic armoire where Maka's nightclothes were stowed. They fell into silence, the gentle rustling of fabric the only sound in the room as Blair dressed Maka with nimble efficiency that came from years of practice. At least, that was what Maka assumed. Blair was tight-lipped about her life before coming to the Albarn household, and Maka knew better than to ask.

Blair had presented something of a quandary upon her arrival at Number 13, Upper Belgrave Street. Maka had been fully prepared to hate the new maid - and for good reason, too. Theirs was the rare house that employed strictly human help, though it wasn't through any paranoia regarding the true abilities and motives of the automaton alternative. No, her father's reason for the all-human staff was much more… carnal.

The only requirement for hire at the Albarn house was beauty, something Maka loathed with a passion. With her mother gone, she was technically mistress of the estate and should have been responsible for the management of its upkeep. But her father had wrangled that authority straight out of her hands and there was precious little she could do to change it. She could only sit by and watch in disgust as her father hired woman after woman to replace the ones she managed to fire.

Blair had been no exception to her father's rule. With generous curves and a flirtatious demeanor, she had been hired shortly after Maka's seventeenth birthday.

Their first conversation had been... unexpected, to say the least. Maka smiled at the memory.

"_Blair." Maka sat in the parlor, skirts fanned out around her in a careful display - one that was designed to indicate the true lady of the house. _

_The new maid, clad in short purple skirts and black lace, set down the tea tray on the table next to her. "Lady Albarn." _

"_Why are you here?"_

_Blair's eyebrows drew together. "Lady Albarn requested tea."_

"_That's not what I meant."_

"_Begging your pardon, but what did Lady Albarn mean?"_

"_Why are you here, in this house? What is your purpose here?" It was the question Maka asked every new maid that came through Number 13. Every time, they gave similar answers, oblivious to the fact that they were resigning themselves to the young mistress' wrath. Maka picked up a teacup and sat back as she waited for Blair to answer in the same way as her predecessors. _

_But Blair did not lie, stutter, or stumble over her words. What she said was the short, precise, and honest truth. "Blair is here to provide for Lord Albarn's needs."_

_Maka, who was sipping at her tea, nearly choked. "I beg your pardon?!"_

"_That is why Blair was hired, yes? But that is not the only reason Blair is here."_

_Maka's face was glowing a bright red, partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. "Wh-what do you mean?"_

"_Blair was hired for Lord Albarn, but Blair was also hired for Lady Albarn. And Blair intends to perform her duties as best she can." She bobbed in a neat little curtsy. "Will that be all Lady Albarn requires?"_

_Maka gaped at her with a stupid expression on her face. Slowly, she set her teacup down on the tray and regarded the woman in front of her with incredulity. In all the years she'd been asking that question of the help, not one had answered her honestly. Yet this woman had looked her straight in the eye and admitted the truth with absolutely no shame. As much as Maka wanted to, she could find no fault in that. _

_As if that weren't enough, Blair had sounded completely sincere when promising to serve Maka. Very few maids had spared a glance to their master's daughter, and of those that did, even fewer bothered to serve her in the best way that they could. Over the years, Maka had to learn how to dress herself, even how to tidy her own room. To find a maid who was as dedicated to the daughter as she was to the master… Maka didn't know what to make of it. _

"_Is Lady Albarn alright?" Blair peered down at Maka and blinked her wide golden eyes in concern. _

"_I'm fine," she said shakily. Blair's admission had been startling to say the least, but Maka found herself grateful to the woman despite her horrid duties to her father. It was the honesty, she realized. All she'd ever wanted from the help was total honesty, and for the first time in her life, she had received it. _

"_Will that be all, Lady Albarn?" Blair asked. _

"_For now," she said, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Thank you, Blair." _

_There was a new warmth in her tone that had certainly not been present at the start of the conversation, and Blair quickly took notice. "Of course, Lady Albarn. If you will excuse me…" She dipped into another quick curtsy, but before she could leave, Maka held her hand out. _

"_That is not necessary. The curtsy, I mean."_

"_Lady Albarn should receive the proper respect."_

"_And you have already given me that; the curtsy is unnecessary. Please."_

"_If the lady insists."_

"_The lady does insist. You are free to leave."_

_As Blair left the room, Maka took another sip of tea and mused over her situation. Blair was a new development, one that was not entirely unwelcome. She looked forward to seeing how this honest maid would turn out. _

Two years later and, well… things had certainly turned out for the best. Blair had become something of an aunt to the young Albarn; she provided service, comfort, and - sometimes unwelcome - advice. Maka found herself very fortunate that Blair had chosen the Albarn house as her place of employment.

Once Maka was ready for bed, Blair snuffed the gaslights on the walls and hovered in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

"Blair," Maka chided gently. "It is late - or early, I suppose. Go to bed. I will tell you everything tomorrow, I promise."

Blair stilled her fidgeting and smiled. "Blair will hold Miss Maka to that. Good night." She winked and backed into the hall, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

"Good night," Maka called softly, eyes fixed on the spot where Blair had just been. The afterimage of a small glowing orb hovered in her vision, an exact replica of the one she sometimes saw floating around Blair's chest. The observation no longer frightened her as it once had - a year full of the unpredictable appearances of the images had a tendency to dull any uncertainty she'd originally felt.

It had begun on her eighteenth birthday, like a switch had been flipped in her brain overnight. Nothing had felt different upon waking, but as soon as Blair had walked through the door, it was apparent that something had changed. Maka hadn't known what to make of the blue sphere floating just below her maid's heart, or why she'd never seen one there before. Without mentioning it, Maka had squinted and tilted her head to see if the sphere was simply an illusion or a brief hallucination. But no matter how she looked at it, the sphere remained where it was, shining dully in the late morning light.

"Is Miss Maka alright?" Blair had asked, noticing the strange look on her face.

"I'm fine," she'd said distantly, turning away. As much as she had wanted to confide in Blair, she had known that there was no chance of her maid believing her.

Blair had clearly seen straight through Maka's lie, but had chosen not to comment. "Miss Maka can tell Blair whatever it is when she is ready."

Maka had felt a surge of affection for her maid, but still hadn't elaborated. When the woman had returned later that day sans-orb, Maka was grateful that she'd decided to stay quiet. But when it had reappeared two days later, she hadn't been so sure. Ever since then the orbs had popped into existence at random times, with no explanation. Though it wasn't just Blair who sported the occasional blue orb - whenever the visions reappeared, every person she saw carried one with them.

No two looked alike. Maka couldn't describe it really, only that each had a unique feel to it. Some were not blue, however, and she quickly learned to stay away from anyone whose orb was tainted with that sickly red light. They were never the good ones.

Aside from this useful bit of instinct, Maka still had no explanation behind the reason or purpose behind the little orbs. She had her suspicions regarding what they were, but Maka wasn't one for speculating. For all she knew, they could be simple hallucinations.

Something very small and very quiet told her that they weren't, that they were something bigger and deeper than that, and maybe it was that small, quiet voice that kept her from panicking. Maka had learned to trust her instincts over the years: they rarely - if ever - led her astray.

She stood in the middle of her room for a moment more, watching the gaslight on the table flicker and dance to an inaudible tune. Exhaustion settled over her bones like a heavy blanket, highlighting every strain and bruise on her body. The race had been much more strenuous than she had expected, though no less exhilarating. But now that the adrenaline had left her, she wanted nothing more than to sink below the fluffy quilts piled on her bed.

So that was exactly what she did.

* * *

><p>Glossary of terms:<p>

Kentish Town: a poorer district towards the north of London.

Cussed: cursed

Crown: a unit of currency. 1 crown is five shillings; 1 pound is twenty shillings

Codger: an elderly man, especially one who is old-fashioned or eccentric

Go powder your hair: go get drunk

Belgravia: a district within the borough of Chelsea, nearer to the west of London. One of the richest districts in the city


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Miss Maka? Miss Maka needs to get up now!" Sharp nails dug into her arm and a hand shook her awake.

"Mmmmpphhh. Not now, Blair." Her mouth felt sticky, her head full of cotton. Why was it so important that she wake now? There was nothing of great importance happening that day...

"Miss Maka is picking up her father at the zeppelin port today, remember? She is going to be late!" Blair poked her once more before gliding off to rummage through her wardrobe.

See? Nothing of great importance. Maka nearly giggled at her cleverness, but a jaw-cracking yawn escaped in its place. "Do I have to go?" The question sounded suspiciously like a whine, but she was much too tired to care.

"Miss Maka promised him. It is her own fault for staying out so late."

Well, she could not argue with that. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she pushed herself up groggily and swatted at Blair, who was poking her once more. "Enough, Blair. I'm awake."

"If Blair leaves now, Miss Maka will just go back to sleep."

Sometimes having a diligent maid could be such a pain. With a sigh, she swung her legs over and stood up, stretching out languidly as her joints popped and settled. She had barely taken a step forward before Blair descended, a whirlwind in her impeccably ironed skirts. Maka was dressed in record time and shepherded downstairs to wolf down a few slices of cold ham before being loaded into the steam carriage. Blair patted her knee once and swung the small door shut behind her, leaving Maka feeling dizzy and more than a little motion-sick. Blair certainly could be a force of nature when she wanted to be.

But then again, she could have simply been trying to keep Maka's mind off the carriage's destination. Now that she was confined to a small space with only her own thoughts for company, the truth sank in about who exactly she had been rushed out the door to see. Maka's lips twisted into a grimace. One month had not been nearly long enough for her father to be away, and far too often Maka had found herself wishing that he might find some reason to stay away. But Baron Albarn was devoted to his only daughter, no matter how much she was wished he was not.

The rumbling purr of the engine in front of her did nothing to soothe her unease, despite its similarity to the cycle she had ridden the night before. It was curious, how two vehicles could be so alike, yet so different. On her cycle, Maka felt completely and utterly free. In the carriage, however, she felt trapped, forced by an obligation to a father who clearly did not feel the same towards her - if his ideas of what constituted a maid were anything to go by.

She inhaled the stale scent of the leather interior and leaned her head against the cool silk of the lowered shades. It was only for an hour, she reminded herself. One hour of his presence, and then she could avoid him as much as she wanted for the rest of the day.

Somehow, the thought didn't cheer her.

The scant few hours of sleep caught up with her as the carriage trundled down the street. She cradled her cheek in her palm, eyelids slipping closed against her will. It was only when the carriage jerked to a stop that she awoke with a start, the driver's voice tinny through the interior speaker. "We have arrived, my lady."

Slowly, she tugged at the braided rope by the window, lifting the silk cloth shade in a whisper of fabric to reveal a bustling zeppelin port. Not for the first time, Maka gawked at the sight before her.

Three massive zeppelins were berthed at the port, their membranous silver skin glimmering in the morning sunlight. Thick cables tethered each to their harbors, keeping them afloat ten feet off the ground. Ramps were provided for the passengers; a few more daring members of the zeppelin crews jumped straight to the ground, colleagues cheering them on as they leaped.

One of the ships was unloading crates upon crates of various supplies; everything from fresh produce to automaton parts passed through the London harbor. A large warehouse at the end of the port housed all incoming cargo as it was processed and shipped to its final destination. A steady stream of port workers came and went through the doors, delivering and packing crates as needed.

On the other side of the port was traffic of a much different sort. Here were the ladies dressed in their fine silks, the gentlemen in their pressed coats and cravats, the middle-class families in their Sunday best. A line of steam-carriages wound its way down the side of the zeppelin harbor, waiting for those wealthy enough to have transportation waiting. For those who were not, a cab station was set up on the main road.

Like ants they swarmed every which way, chaotic and loud and frantic. It was both exciting and draining to watch.

Maka took in the zeppelins as she waited, marveling over the vast size and structure of the ships before her. How amazing, that something so large could carry so much through the sky! As luck would have it, several years ago she'd had the opportunity to receive a tour of one, and though she admired the design, she had found the deafening roar of the engine room and the confusing array of hallways not to her taste. Given a choice, she would pick the rumble of axel engines to the whirr of zeppelin blades every time.

A head of vibrant red hair bobbed into view, prompting her to frown. A tall, lean man in a crisp black suit laughed with a buxom young woman dressed in a zeppelin attendant's uniform. He leaned towards her and smiled widely as she giggled. Maka thought she might be sick.

At that moment he looked up, traces of his smile still on his face as he scanned the line of steam-carriages waiting for arrivals. He lit up when he saw the crest on Maka's carriage and she sighed. _Here he comes._

With a flourish, he turned back to his escort and kissed her hand. She giggled again and fluttered her eyelashes as he took his leave, her gaze lingering as the man approached the carriage at a near run.

Maka winced as the door opened with a bang. Her father stood in the opening, looking slightly rumpled, but glowing all the same. "Maka, my darling!"

"Papa," she said coolly, making no move to greet him.

He faltered for a moment, then climbed into the carriage. Maka shifted none-too-subtly as he tried to take the seat next to her, so he settled for the one across. She didn't meet his gaze as the driver shut the door behind him, looking slightly disgruntled that Maka's father had beaten him to the door. The carriage bobbed slightly as he climbed back behind the wheel; moments later, the engine shuddered to life and sent them rumbling down the road at a steady pace, leaving Maka trapped with her father.

Baron Spirit Albarn was well-known throughout elite circles, though it was more for his philandering ways than his title. The former, however, was often swept under the rug due to the latter, something that Maka both despised and appreciated. She may have hated the attitudes of her peers, but she cherished the still-stainless veneer of their family name. Was it hypocritical of her to think that?

Even if it was, she could never match her father in that area. For someone who claimed to love her deceased mother as much as he did, he certainly did more than his fair share of flirting. Most days Maka wondered how they could even be related.

"How is my Maka darling?" he asked, his tone simpering and much too eager.

"I am fine," she said shortly.

"That's wonderful!" He beamed at her and she looked away.

Unfortunately, the curtains were still drawn shut, so there was only so much examining of the wall she could do. Though she knew it would lead down a dangerous path, she asked, "What was her name?"

Her father looked puzzled. "Who?"

"The attendant you were flirting with."

He was instantly wary. "Maria… no, Martha? Or was it Mary?" His brows drew together as he thought aloud.

"Do you still remember _her_ name? Mama's, I mean? Or have you forgotten her, too?" The words felt like ice on her lips.

He gasped loudly. "I could never forget your mother's name! I loved her so much, and I still love her! Nothing could make me forget."

Maka made a "tch" sound and let the subject drop. Her father, however, was not satisfied. "I know you do not believe me, sweet, but it _is_ true. The bond between spouses is eternal, surpassing even death. You have not yet experienced anything of that nature, but when you do-"

She stiffened. "Yet? When? You believe I am to be married so soon?"

He flinched and frowned in distaste, but he made himself nod. "You know I don't like it either, but Maka, dear, you are nineteen. You cannot stay unmarried forever. I have been trying to find a good match for you so you will be provided for; you know you can't live in Number 13 for the rest of your life."

Maka couldn't help the furious words that tumbled past her lips. "Are you that rushed to push me out of the house? Are you that desperate to fill the halls with your whores?"

"What?" Her father reared back in shock. "No, no that's not it at all-"

Maka stabbed a small call button near the window with one finger. "Drop me off at Regent's Park, if you please," she ordered the driver.

"Maka, sweet, no, Papa just said the wrong thing, I didn't mean that at all, of course I want you to stay-"

"Then why marry me off?" Maka demanded. She knew why, of course - every girl born to her status knew why, but she also knew the distaste her father held for nearly every man her age. Why try to marry her off if he didn't wish to? Why not keep things as they were?

"You're misunderstanding-"

"I don't believe I am," she said coldly. The carriage slowed to a stop and she slid herself towards the door as it opened. The driver stepped out of the way quickly, well-versed in the moods of Lady Albarn. Spirit tried to follow after her, but she held up a hand to stop him. "I think I could use some fresh air." To the driver she said, "Please pick me up in two hours. I believe I shall be composed by then."

He nodded curtly and took his place atop the carriage once more. Spirit could be heard wailing inside as it pulled away; it was only after it rounded a corner that Maka could finally breathe.

She put a hand to her temple. Her father never failed to make her blood boil; something about him just set her on edge and left her in the foulest of moods. To be fair, some of the remarks she'd made had been cruel and unfounded, but her papa seemed to bring out that side in her.

A crisp fall breeze kissed her face and played with a stray lock of hair, cooling her blood and restoring her thoughts to some semblance of order. Regent's Park was one of her favorite places in London; it had been far too long since she'd come to visit.

Light, airy gravel crunched underneath her feet as she wandered down one of several walking paths that cut through the park. The bustling sounds of the street faded the farther inward she ventured, until all she could hear was the rustling of branches on the oak trees that towered above her.

A low whirring drew her attention to the several garden-units puttering around the edges of the path as they tended to the autumn-blooming flora and cleared away the remains of the summer blossoms. Their multi-purpose arms spun and flipped and converted to whatever tool they needed, switching between trimming, weeding, and raking in the blink of an eye.

Maka eyed the units distastefully. As a little girl, she'd believed that one wrong step would be all it would take for them to mistake her ankles for tulip stems and snip right through them. Though she was years older, the distrust still remained, and she always made sure to keep her distance from the little automatons.

After skirting around them, she continued at a slow pace, hands tucked behind her as she walked. Without meaning to, she found herself walking towards the Outer Circle, where she had battled against the Spartoi racers the night before. Her mouth twitched as she recalled the warm purr of her cycle underneath her, remembered the taste of adrenaline on her tongue.

The street corner looked unremarkable in the bright light of day, but Maka found it much too easy to recall what had taken place the night before...

_Maka had dreamed of what it might be like to race on her mother's cycle, but her daydreams paled in comparison to the actual thing. Never before had she imagined the shadows painting the edges of the street, or the wind plucking at her hair, or even the pure adrenaline that pounded through her veins. For the first time in her life, Maka felt truly alive, and that thought alone kept a silly grin on her face. _

_The start had been a little more difficult than she'd anticipated, since she'd been trapped somewhere near the back. It seemed that she would need more practice in claiming the position she wanted. In the end, though, it hadn't mattered much. The gun had gone off, Maka had twisted the throttle… and had nearly fallen off her axel. Whatever changes her mother had made, they'd bolstered the cycle's performance in ways Maka hadn't anticipated - there was only so much practice she could try for, after all. To her chagrin, it had taken about half of Camden Road for her to learn the precise idiosyncrasies of her axel's movements, but learning had never been a problem for Maka, and soon she was zipping past every racer in sight. Excitement built in her gut as she rounded the corner of Regent's Park, passing two racers on her way. Only one other remained; Maka squeezed the handle and flexed her thighs on her bike as she shot forward. _

_He hadn't expected her, that much was obvious. Silly of him, to sit back during an axel race. Well, Maka would just have to wipe that arrogance off his face for him. _

_The moment he caught sight of her axel, he dropped down and twisted the throttle, milking every drop of acceleration that he could. But Maka merely had to gently twist her hand and suddenly she was there, a thorn in his side that would not be removed. Buildings passed in a blur, wind whipped her clothes in a frenzy, but Maka's hand remained steady and her engine belched steam onto the street with a vengeance. It was an easy thing to slip into the inside corner, and now she had the advantage. _

_Her opponent, a member of Spartoi if the symbol on his axel was any indication, pushed her towards the curb, throwing her off for a brief moment. Was he trying to make her crash? Before her wheels could brush the side of the street, however, he stopped moving closer, and she recognized the tactic for what it was - an attempt to intimidate her into retreating. _

_Maka growled and shot him a glare that told the racer next to her just what she thought about that. Bright red eyes met her own, and for a moment, she thought his goggles had to be tinted that color. But no, the glass was colorless; his eyes actually were blood red - and narrowed as they scanned her over. Suddenly, he grinned, revealing sharp teeth in a challenging smirk. _

_His cycle pressed even closer, startling her, but Maka would not be bullied so easily. She assessed the road in front of her quickly, taking in the upcoming turn while processing the racer next to her. It would be difficult to maintain her advantage, boxed in as she was - so she made a split-second decision that was perhaps a little more dangerous than she should have been comfortable with. In a moment of daring, she inched to the right, and their things touched for a brief moment before the Spartoi racer - Eater, his cycle proclaimed - pulled away sharply. Maka took the few seconds she had with the space to swerve around the turn, axel jolting slightly as she clipped the curb. Eater was by her side almost immediately after, but Maka still had her position. _

_She managed to keep it even as two became four. The racers she had passed after the first turn - also Spartoi - caught up not long after, their axels pawing the ground right behind her back wheel. The hairs on the back of Maka's neck prickled uncomfortably, but she resisted the urge to turn around and look. All she could focus on was her own axel - though that was hard to do when one was surrounded by three league racers. _

_As they rounded the corner, all four racers merged smoothly to the right side. Maka kept her cycle close to Eater's to keep the two behind her where they were. Unfortunately, the move placed Eater on the inside track, but Maka knew she could make up for it in the final stretch. _

_They'd barely made the turn when the Spartoi racers claimed their spots next to her. Maka barely spared them a glance - her eyes were too fixated on the distant call of the finish. _

_Maka's veins thrummed with exhilaration. So close, and tied for first as well! She had been hoping only to place, had never dared to dream that she might actually win. Now, though, when she could almost taste victory on her tongue, she felt a burning desire to prove just what she - and her mother's axel - could do. _

_Her core tightened just a little more as she pressed her body against the molded steel of her cycle, fingers gripping the throttle in a careful grip. She didn't know yet how far was too far, so she'd been doling out acceleration in careful doses, just enough to keep up with the other racers. Perhaps now was her chance to see just what exactly her mother's modifications could do. _

_She flexed her fingers gently, pushing at the throttle just a little more. Her thighs tightened imperceptibly against the warm steam pipes that lined the sides - and she nearly screamed in shock when her axel sprang forward against her permission. She had been hoping to smoothly glide ahead, but what she received was more akin to a drunken leap. Immediately she pulled back on the throttle, and her surprise cost her her place in line. Spartoi efficiently closed ranks, leaving her to fight for a place from behind. _

_Eater, the racer she'd been tied with before, shot forward in a cloud of steam as both of his teammates tried to keep pace. No longer barred by a strict line, Maka seized her chance. Bending down across the handlebars, she squeezed the throttle again… and her pace increased by inches. She frowned. Why wasn't her cycle responding?_

Think_, she ordered herself. _What exactly did you do last time?

_She leaned down again, her breathing steady as her heart thudded frantically. Her fingers still on the throttle, she tightened her body - there! There was a click she felt more than heard as her leg pressed into a little groove of metal along the side of her axel. The engine grumbled, coughed, and sent her shooting forward. But this time, Maka was expecting it and didn't relent. It was too late to catch Eater, and the racer with the gray and gold cycle, but the last one she knew she could beat. _

_It certainly helped that he wasn't expecting her. He shot her a look of surprise that quickly morphed into a scowl as she caught up; not even a second later and he was keeping pace with her. Maka was surprised for a moment before she realized that her leg was no longer pressed into the little groove she had found. With a grin that no one could see, she pressed it again, and jumped forward just enough to win by a nose-length. _

_She could barely hear the roar of the crowd over the frantic beating of her heart. It took all the willpower she had left to coast to a stop and dismount across the street from Spartoi (she didn't know how well they handled losing) without falling over. Once her axel was settled and turned off, she bent down to inspect the sides. Her gloved fingers probed the warm metal as they tried to find the latch responsible for her win. _

_It took a few minutes, but find it she did. Right above the steam exhaust pipes, where the metal was curved gently to better fit the slope of her leg, a small square the size of a postage stamp sunk underneath the pressure of her finger. Releasing it, she ran her hand across the side, marveling at the workmanship and the ingenuity of the design. The button was barely raised from the side of the cycle, just enough that it could be triggered with the press of a thigh. If Maka hadn't discovered this even after her hours spent in the garden shed, what else might she find about her mother's axel? _

_After she'd collected her winnings for the night, Maka went to look over her axel one last time when the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. _

_She looked up to see Eater staring at her, red eyes piercing and unreadable. Despite the precautions she'd taken to hide her face, she couldn't help but feel like he could see right through it. To disguise the feeling, she lifted her chin and hardened her gaze in a challenge. She may have only placed third, but she'd been a serious contender for most of the race. His place could easily have been hers, and one day, she promised herself, it would be. _

_Skree-skree-chunk_. An automaton whined from somewhere next to her; Maka turned to see one of the garden-units with its arm buried deep within the trunk of a massive oak tree. The machine whined pathetically as it tried to yank its arm away, but the tree was old and stubbornly reluctant to part with its newest addition. Three other units swarmed around their brother, flimsy arms trying in vain to free him. Maka's lips curled into a small smile and suddenly the unpleasant conversation she'd had with her father faded away into the autumn air.

Her smile widened as she turned back to the street corner. However vivid her recollection was, it paled in comparison to the actual event. The blood pumping through her veins, adrenaline nipping at her hands like liquid fire, the dizzying blur of the buildings passing by - they were a liquor to her, and she was drawn to it like a man deprived. She had wondered before the race whether it would be wise to lay low for a while after her first one, to make sure she wasn't recognized, but the resolve evaporated as she pictured yet another tedious night spent embroidering or, even worse, enduring her father's half-hearted attempts at matchmaking. The addiction had set in, yet Maka embraced it with open arms.

Come hell or high water, Maka would be racing again in two night's time. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine, and she turned back to await the return of the carriage. Before she could taken even two steps, however, she caught a snippet of a conversation that had her stopping in her tracks.

"...see the race last night?"

Two men dressed in overcoats and fine top hats stood near the edge of the park, deep in conversation. Maka edged closer, gaze dropped to the empty flower beds as her ears strained to overhear. It was improper, trying to eavesdrop, but Maka's curiosity was quite a thing to behold and wouldn't let little things like propriety get in the way.

"-Spartoi, one of the best leagues out there."

Spartoi. She'd heard the name before when she'd first dipped her toes into the racing world, but hadn't been able to put cycles to the names until last night. Concepts like leagues and sponsors and race hierarchy were still very new to her - from what these men were saying, however, it seemed that Spartoi was near the top.

"And they're not called that for nothing," the first man continued. "It's not just the racers they have; their mechanics are some of the best in London."

"Really? Who do they have?"

"The Thompson sisters. One of them, Elizabeth Thompson, used to moonlight in Whitechapel for the underground circuit; rumor has it she builds the best axels out there. Spartoi snatched her up in a minute, so now she works out of their warehouse." He gestured vaguely towards Camden Road; Maka's eyes followed the movement. Even as their conversation tapered off and the men wandered down the street, she remained where she was, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

Despite not knowing much about Spartoi, she couldn't deny that her curiosity was at full force. Who were these league racers who so dominated the competition? Maka knew better than to stick her nose too far into places that it didn't belong, but her curiosity would not be swayed. What could it hurt to simply go back to the start, to wonder where they called their headquarters? She wouldn't actually seek them out of course, but she still had time before the carriage was due back and she didn't have anything else to do.

Camden Road was bustling with people of all backgrounds, nestled between Chelsea and Kentish Town as it was. Here was a rare place where the classes mixed, bright colors clashing with frayed hems as people passed each other on the street. Maka herself was dressed in drab traveling clothes and so didn't stand out as she made her way down the street. Her feet slowed as she approached the warehouse district, and she recalled Spartoi's entrance from the night before. They'd emerged only a few blocks behind the start, from an alley she hadn't been aware existed. Maybe she could catch a glimpse if she wandered by the front.

Two blocks later, she spotted the exact same alley. Wide enough to fit an accelocycle, but narrow enough to escape notice, it seemed like the most likely candidate. She watched the entrance for a minute, wondering once again who exactly would be allowed access down it. Perhaps she could find out in her next race.

A slight figure sneaking down the road caught her eye, and she focused a piercing gaze on him. There were plenty of people who snuck around in Death City, but not quite so many were that obvious about it. Head and eyes darted around, a hand clutched at something in a coat pocket, and his steps were quick and erratic. Still, Maka wouldn't have thought much of it until he ducked down the very same alley where she was sure Spartoi kept their lair.

Maka knew she should have just left it alone then. There was no obligation tying her to this league, she had no reason to care if there were lurkers around their headquarters. She knew this very well. But Maka also knew she was a stubborn person with a strong moral sense of right and wrong, and that was what prompted her to follow him into the alleyway.

Her boots made nary a sound on the cobbled stones below, though the intruder before her was making no effort to hide his approach. He wrung his hands as he walked, and Maka began to wonder if she had decided to go after the stupidest burglar in London. Well, if she had, it would be that much easier for her to dissuade him.

Finally, he came to a stop as the alley petered out into a dead end. A dark blue garage door loomed to his left, steel gears shining with a fresh coat of oil. The windows of the building it was part of were bolted shut, with cast iron bars welded above the glass. The locks shone brightly in the alleyway, and Maka knew without a doubt that the intruder had found his destination.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, infusing her voice with all the steel she could. The man in front of her squeaked and whirled around, revealing a forgettable face and watery black eyes.

"What - who - who are you?" he stuttered, hands flying out of his coat. He held them in the air limply, like a puppet controlled by a slack string.

"I believe I asked my question first," Maka said coolly, putting her hands on her hips. With her brown leather coat flared out behind her the way it was, sturdy boots spread shoulder-width apart, she felt a little bit invincible.

She looked intimidating too, judging by puppet-man's reaction. He cringed and said, "I - I'm so sorry, I just wanted… I saw the race the other night, and I wanted to ask - er, that is…"

"And just what is going on here?" A new voice entered the scene, and Maka felt her invincibility shrink just a little as she turned around to find a tall man dressed in a suit jacket and a top hat watching them. Tinted goggles hid his eyes from view, but the curl of his lip left no question as to the direction of his thoughts. Maka looked back to the intruder, but his eyes had gone wide and he looked like he might wet himself rather than answer the question.

"I noticed this man sneaking in through the alley and I thought I would head him off before he got inside. That is all."

"Is that so?" the man in the top-hat said. He tilted his head to assess them both, revealing sideburns of staggering shape and intensity. "How am I to be sure of that? It could be that you both decided to come snooping around in affairs not your own."

His voice was haughty and grated on Maka's nerves. Gritting her teeth, she responded, "I am afraid you will have to take my word for it, sir. I saw him sneaking around and decided to take matters into my own hands. Conveniently, the facts remain true whether you believe them or not."

The Spartoi member (for why else would he be in the alley, asking questions with such an imperious tone of voice?) frowned at her. Sighing, Maka continued. "And honestly, do you think I would work with him?" She pointed a finger to the intruder, who was still holding his hands in the air, staring slack-jawed. "I was doing you a favor, really, so I suppose I will leave you to your business."

The man with the sideburns nodded reluctantly after a moment. "I suppose I have no evidence to the contrary," he said stiffly. "Very well then, if you could leave us."

_With immense pleasure. _At the mouth of the alley, she glanced back to see the intruder groveling pathetically as the Spartoi racer scolded him fiercely. The corner of her mouth quirked up to the side slightly as she merged into the traffic on the street. Who knew that leagues attracted such a… devoted following?

Glancing down at the clockwork watch embedded into her bracelet, she cursed under her breath, drawing scandalized looks from two ladies next to rolled her eyes and ducked her head as she passed, ignoring the savage whispers coming from behind. Honestly, didn't these women have better things to do with their time?

The carriage was waiting for her as she arrived at the edge of the park; the driver shot her a curious look but said nothing. As they started for home, Maka found her thoughts wandering back to the encounter in the alley. If she'd been hoping to quench her curiosity with the visit, she was sadly disappointed. If anything, she wanted to know more about these people that made up her biggest competition. It wasn't even that she wished to learned their weaknesses, and how she might best beat them, though that would certainly help. She believed it to be her relative novelty to the world to racing - when she was more comfortable in the hierarchy, then her interest might fade.

But even as she thought that, a small voice in her head said that would not be the case. Unconcerned, she shrugged it off and told herself that it wouldn't matter much. In two days she would race again, and then she would find herself pitted against Spartoi once more.

And if she were lucky, perhaps she could even beat them.

* * *

><p>Nygus was the one to meet Soul the next morning; he blinked at her in confusion before stepping inside. "Where is Sid?"<p>

"Sitting on Stein's table and missing half a leg," she replied cheerfully, shutting the door behind him. "So I took his duties for the day."

"Half a leg? It was just a gear out of place last night."

"You know Stein. Always trying to improve."

"He experiments anymore and Sid's not going to have anything original left."

"Oh, Stein knows Sid's position about that. He won't step out of line."

"If you say so." He waved as he turned down the hallway, then shoved his hands in his pockets as he ambled along. Loud conversation trickled through the door as Soul passed through, the scene before him mimicking the one he'd walked into from the night before.

It wasn't unusual for Spartoi to spend the day after a race in the warehouse, trading jokes and conversation as they picked up their winnings and relaxed. No one was expected to work their second job so soon after the event, so they appreciated the time they had. Every member of Shibusen moonlighted during the day - while lucrative, racing was not enough to solely support anyone. But for the two days surrounding the events, racing became their sole occupation.

Soul scanned the common room he entered. Only Ox was absent; it was possible he'd already retrieved his earnings and left for the day. The rest had certainly collected their winnings, as the conversation was full of lighthearted laughter. Black*Star had a gleeful look on his face as he strutted around the room; it took only one glance at the fuming Jackie and Kim in the loveseat across from him to guess why.

"Cheer up, you two," Soul called. "It's not the end of the world. End of the lists, maybe, but not the world."

"Not you, as well," Jackie grumbled through gritted teeth. "Black*Star hasn't stopped talking about it."

"Why should I? My greatness isn't something anyone should keep quiet about!" He leered at them both as he stood across the rickety coffee table.

"I'm going to kill him," Kim muttered. "I will."

Jackie rubbed her arm soothingly. "You won't. He'll forget about it eventually."

"Not likely! The great Black*Star has a memory far greater than that of mere mortals-"

"I can't wait for eventually," Kim said, fists clenching on her knees.

"Jackie's right," Soul added. "He'll find something else soon."

Kim leveled an even stare at him. "You don't understand; he's been at it all morning."

Soul looked to Kilik, who nodded. "He's been… enthusiastic."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Black*Star demanded. "My godliness can't be contained! I don't know why you're so sore; you should be bowing down to someone so mighty-"

"That's it!" Kim's voice was shrill as she launched herself out of her seat. Jackie caught her around the waist before she could reach Black*Star. Kim wriggled fiercely in her grasp, finger curled into claws as she swiped the air in front of her.

Everyone else looked on with varying degrees of concern. Harvar's lips twitched into a mildly amused smile while Kilik laughed, saying, "No, fists, Kim, like I taught you!" Tsubaki's eyes crinkled with worry, but she remained where she was. If things did escalate, Soul knew that she would be by her partner's side in an instant.

Black*Star, of course, was grinning like a lunatic. "Don't be sore like that, Kim," he said. "I've always been the best racer here and you know it! You've just got something to aspire to now!"

There was a high-pitched snarl and the muted thud of skin on fabric as Kim hurled herself forward and landed a weak punch to Black*Star's chest. Kilik crowed loudly and even Harvar smiled as Black*Star reeled back, more out of surprise than real pain. Kim stood before him, chest heaving, face pink with anger. Jackie was standing behind her with her arms crossed, looking unsurprised by the turn of events.

She caught Soul's eye and shrugged. "What? My hand slipped."

Soul snorted. "Whatever you say."

Meanwhile, Black*Star had recovered and was standing face-to-face with Kim. The grin had dimmed somewhat, but it was still present. "Are you challenging your god?"

"You're not a god!" Kim screeched, poking him in the chest. "You just got lucky. We always beat you, every time!"

"Not every," he reminded her cheekily. "Remember? I just beat you. And don't pretend like it's a surprise."

Kim lashed out again, but this time Black*Star leaned to the side and let her fist sail past his torso. She stumbled as her momentum drew her forward, but managed to pull back before Black*Star could force her more off-balance.

"Keep it tight, Kim!" Kilik called. "Short and fast!"

Her spine straightened as she took in his words and her finger tightened into fists. Jackie smiled as she watched her partner balance on the balls of her feet. Kim didn't look quite as impressive and intimidating as Kilik did when he fought, but it was apparent that she knew enough to handle herself.

Black*Star, however, was another matter. He'd been taught how to fight from an early age, and out of all Spartoi, he was the most formidable in a physical altercation. But he would never use his full force against another member, and so everyone watched in amusement as the two engaged in a friendly fight - though for Kim, it was anything but friendly.

Her fist lashed out in a blur, catching Black*Star across the shoulder. He laughed in surprise, but barely moved. "Not bad," he said. "But you're a little obvious on the delivery."

"I'm trying to give you a shiner, stop being helpful!" She tried to punch him again, but Black*Star caught her hand easily.

"Gonna have to be faster than that."

Kim paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Something in her tone made those watching tense in anticipation, but Black*Star remained oblivious.

"Of course! You can't beat-" His words were cut off as Kim ducked down and swept her foot out, pulling his ankle out from under him. He stumbled, but didn't fall to the ground like she'd intended. "See? It takes more than that to topple a god like me!"

Kim, irritated at having her every move redirected, screeched and flung herself at him again, abandoning the careful fists and controlled strikes as she shoved him in the chest. Black*Star cackled as he caught her hands once more and swung her around like one would with a rag doll.

"Let go of me!"

"Shouldn'ta picked a fight, then!"

"You can do better than that, Kim!"

"Go for the sternum. No, the _sternum!_"

"Excuse me everyone, but I've just encountered - what on _earth_ is going on? Kim?!" Ox stood by the back door, mouth open in astonishment. Black*Star and Kim ignored him as they continued their tussle. "Kim!" He rushed forward, rolling his sleeves up. "This is a disgrace! A lady of your station need not lower yourself to common fighting. Therefore, I shall take your place and fight for your honor-"

"Kim took a swing at me!" Black*Star defended, holding her off with one hand as he faced Ox. "Unless you want to give it a shot?"

"I will always protect my lady," Ox said imperiously, holding his fists facing outward by his face. Kilik groaned and buried his head in his hands.

Soul nudged him and lifted an eyebrow. Kilik looked up and sighed. "_That_ is not how you box. At all. Black*Star's going to wipe the floor with him."

"He'd do that even if Ox knew how to box."

Kilik snorted. "That's true. That is, if Kim doesn't get to him first."

He was right. Kim was spitting mad, shrieking at Ox while she tried to land a blow on Black*Star. Ox was pleading with her as he circled his opponent, looking for a nonexistent opening. It was quite a sight, the two arguing while simultaneously trying to defeat Black*Star. Neither was succeeding.

"If you would just-"

"You can do it, Kim!"

"I am only trying to defend-"

"I don't need defending!"

"You see? A god can take on multitudes and never falter!"

"Would you be quiet and let me hit you?!"

"Step aside and let me-"

"_No!_ I swear on all that is holy-"

"What in the _blazes_ is going on here?"

The room fell silent as its occupants stilled, heads turning to the workshop door. The Thompsons had wandered into the room, spattered in oil and grease, and looking none too happy about the commotion.

"Friendly sparring match?" Jackie suggested weakly.

Liz took in the "friendly" match, and how Kim was practically draped over Black*Star's back, how Ox's hand was twisted in his grip. "Oh, my mistake," she said sarcastically, twirling a wrench through her fingers.

Kim winced and began to wriggle on Black*Star's back. "Put me down, you oaf!"

"What?" he said blankly. When her arms began to tighten around his neck, he lifted her up and set her back down quickly. She flicked him in the forehead before scurrying back to Jackie's side.

Ox, however, remained in a fighting position. Liz leveled an even stare at him while her sister brandished a wrench of her own. He swallowed hard, then reluctantly put down his hands and stepped away. Black*Star threw his arms in the air and crowed triumphantly. "The unbeatable Black*Star wins again!"

Before he could continue, there was a whizzing sound followed by a hollow, metallic _thud_. A wrench clattered to the ground as Black*Star howled and clutched his head. All eyes turned to Liz, but she shrugged. They shifted to Patti, who giggled and waved cheerily. More than one spectator flinched; Black*Star was not the only member of Spartoi who was acquainted with Patti Thompson's wrench.

"I don't care much what you do in your spare time, but for God's sake, keep it down. I could hear you in the garage and I'm surrounded by steam engines. Alright?"

There were murmurs of assent as the sisters turned back to their workshop. A collective breath was released as they disappeared inside, and the tension was sucked out of the room.

"Ox," Harvar said quietly. "You were saying?"

Ox looked at him blankly before starting in recollection. "Yes, of course! As I was saying, I ran into an intruder outside, but I managed to scare him off, no harm done."

"You mean you ran into an overzealous supporter and you sent them on your way after a scolding," Kilik corrected, grinning.

Ox bristled. "I most certainly do not! How dare you insinuate that I am not capable of defending our league against those with ill intentions!"

Kilik snorted. "I've seen your attempts at boxing, Ox. I'd be more afraid of the twins, honestly."

"I can be intimidating when I choose to be!"

"With a book, maybe," Soul added. "But I don't think anyone poking around here is looking for a lecture."

"I don't know," Jackie said in a sing-song, giving Kim a sideways glance. "There might be more than you realize."

Kim huffed as Ox turned bright pink and spluttered. Soul felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Tsubaki standing behind him, a small cloth bag in her hands. "For you," she said quietly as Kim and Ox broke out into yet another argument.

"You shouldn't have," Soul quipped. Tsubaki smiled as he peeked inside, then stuffed the pouch into his pocket. "Congratulations," he added, before she could move away. "For last night."

Her smile grew a little wider. "Thank you very much. I hope it is not the only time."

"So long as he doesn't get any ideas about first, we should have no problem," Soul joked. "Though for Kim and Jackie's sake, I hope he'll shut up about it."

Tsubaki laughed. "I do not know about that, but I will try to talk to him."

"I wish you the best of luck there," he called as she returned to her partner's side. Black*Star grinned as she approached and began talking animatedly, throwing out wide gestures to illustrate his point.

He looked around the room, taking in each one of his teammates. Kim and Ox were still arguing, but their words were losing some of the heat from before. Jackie and Harvar watched their partners in amusement, exchanging the occasional conversation. Kilik sat on the arm of a couch with a grin on his face, content to simply play the bystander in this interaction.

These were the people he'd cast his lot with, and as he thought of those he'd been born among, he knew without a doubt that he had made the correct choice.

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

shiner: black eye


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The squeak of a screw cut through the stale, dusty air of the garden shed as it fought the spanner tooth and nail, its metal threads reluctant to part with the grooves where rust had bound them together. When the bolt would move no more, the spanner was replaced with a stained dishrag dipped in oil. The rust was stubborn, but so was the oil, and it wasn't long before the screw started to wiggle free. Copper-brown flakes caught on the oilrag and fluttered to the floor as the metal underneath started to regain its original luster. With one last gentle tug, the screw fell from the hole and into a pale, slim-fingered hand.

Maka waited with bated breath as she scanned her axel with a critical eye. Nothing had fallen off, or shifted out of place, or screeched in warning as she'd removed the old screw. Blowing out a sigh of relief, she tossed it into an old bucket filled with its rusted brothers and sisters, where it landed with a muffled _clank_.

She leaned back on her hands as she searched her surroundings for the oil-bottle she'd been relying on for the past few months. Ah, there it was. The can sloshed slightly as she picked it up and aimed the narrow metal nozzle at the rusted cavity left behind. She pressed the button on top of the bottle, and a thin stream of liquid escaped with a low hiss as it coated the inside of the hole. Wiping the excess away with the oilrag, she set the bottle off to the side. Her oil-stained hands plucked a new screw from a second pail, this one full of shining, brand-new nuts and bolts.

There was no squeaking this time as she spun the screw around in its hole. The metal glided in easily, and it was no great difficulty to take the spanner up again and tighten the bolt fully. Maka sat back on her haunches and ran a finger across the screw-head, a faint smile on her face. Replacing the screws wasn't much, she knew, especially in light of just how much she had left to go - not to mention the steam machinery that kept the cycle running - but it was something she'd taught herself to do, something to help keep the axel running as best she could with her limited skills and resources.

Maka pushed herself off her heels and sat back against the back wall, ignoring the oil stains she knew were seeping into her trousers. She inspected her hands, smiling faintly at the black streaks that decorated her soft, pale skin. Sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes, and she could feel her hair escaping the plaits she'd tied them into hours ago. If any of her peers could see her, they would surely faint at the sight.

The door to the shed creaked open, causing Maka to start and pull herself closer to her axel. The household knew of its presence in the garden shack, but no one - aside from Blair - knew of Maka's plans with it. She wasn't keen on anyone else finding out.

"Miss Maka?" Blair's musical tones called out softly. "It is only Blair."

Maka relaxed and settled into a cross-legged position. "I'm over here," she replied, and soon Blair was standing on the other side of the axel.

"Has Miss Maka eaten today?" Blair asked, her voice laced with a hint of severity.

"Something tells me you know the answer to that."

Blair nodded. "Which is why Blair brought you this." She moved a hand out from behind her back, revealing a lump wrapped in butcher paper.

Maka stretched up to take it, a smile on her face. "Thank you, Blair," she said softly, sitting back down.

Blair nodded, her gaze shifting to the deep green cycle taking up most of the floor space in the old shed. She ran a finger across the engine casing, then looked back at Maka. "It was your mother's, yes?"

Maka's eyes were fixed on the butcher paper as she unwrapped it, the cucumber sandwiches inside slowly losing their appeal. But Blair was watching her, so she took a small bite and nodded her head. "She bought it when accelocycles first debuted, before I was born. Papa says she was one of the few who actually drove one out in public. But I don't think she was happy with it the way it was."

Blair cocked her head. "Why does Miss Maka say that?"

Maka took another bite of a sandwich and set them down next to her. Brushing the crumbs off her trousers, she stood up and gestured to the steam pipes running along the side of the cycle. "See the machinery along the side? I didn't think anything of it until I started looking into a few of the older models. This isn't anything like what was on the market twenty years ago. And…" She trailed off.

Blair motioned for her to continue. "Please, Blair would like to know. Miss Maka's mother was important, and still is to Miss Maka."

Maka shook her head, lips pressed together, but she couldn't help the corners from turning up. "Well, from what I can remember, Mama spent most of her time outside, in the garden. But sometimes I would look for her, and I could never find her there. I did see her coming out of the shed once, with a stain on her glove. When I asked, she just laughed it off. Looking back on it, I believe she was working on modifying the axel."

"And Miss Maka wants to continue where her mother left off?"

Maka shrugged helplessly. "I would, but… I don't know how she did it. She must have taught herself the workings and mechanics, then acquired the parts and started experimenting. All I can do now is clean the screws and hope I don't destroy what she left behind." Her throat grew tight as she spoke, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Years had passed since her mother's death, so why was it still this difficult to speak of her?

Blair reached across the axel and tapped Maka's shoulder. "Miss Maka will be alright. Blair thinks she must be just like her mother that way!"

Maka appreciated the sentiment, but to talk about her mother to the woman who had replaced her beneath her father's sheets stung just a little too much. She gave Blair a tight smile and dropped back to the ground, picking up the oilcloth to clean a few of the rusted bolts.

Blair seemed unaffected. "Is Miss Maka racing tonight?"

"You know I am."

"Miss Maka has been racing quite frequently."

"I have."

"Blair is happy for Miss Maka."

She looked up then, a bolt slipping out of her hands in surprise. "You… are?"

"Blair has never seen Miss Maka this happy before. But…"

Maka narrowed her eyes. "But?"

"Blair thinks Miss Maka is lonely."

Her jaw dropped and she spluttered a little before responding, "I am not lonely, thank you very much!"

"Ah, Blair must have been mistaken, then. Miss Maka isn't lonely at all. That is why she spends most of her time in the garden shed, yes?"

"Blair." Maka's voice was sharp; her maid was daring to walk a dangerous line. "Be careful."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing good ever came of Blair being careful. She knows why Miss Maka is working on the axel, but Blair thinks there is more to it."

"There's not."

"Blair is not trying to poke at old wounds. Blair only thinks Miss Maka should have someone else to share a love of racing."

"I have you," Maka said grudgingly.

"Blair is not enough, she thinks. Blair must stay at Number 13; Miss Maka needs someone at the races with her."

"I can't," she replied, looking down at the screw in her hand. She slowly rubbed oil into it as she continued. "There is the issue of my identity, and that I have only been racing for two weeks. No one knows me well enough to approach me. It is a closed off world, and I do not think I can join as I am."

Blair shifted her weight around; Maka stubbornly refused to look at her. "Miss Maka is lonely, isn't she?" her maid asked softly.

"I'm fine," she answered.

"Blair doesn't believe that… but she will not press any further. If Miss Maka ever wants to tell Blair about it - any of it," - Maka could feel Blair's eyes boring into her - "then Blair will be happy to listen."

"Thank you," Maka said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Blair's gaze remained on her for a moment longer before the woman turned to leave the shed. The door swung shut behind her with a sharp creak, and Maka looked up to find herself alone with the dust and oil once more.

After she finished the sandwiches Blair had brought, Maka picked up a small tin of polish and a clean cloth. Cleaning the axel was painstaking work, but she'd never shied away from manual labor. If her mother could do something like this, then there was no reason that Maka couldn't. Besides, she had a race that night, and her mother's axel needed to look its best.

As she worked, Maka thought back to the four events she'd participated in in the last two weeks. Never had she raced the same course twice, nor had she experienced the same rush as compared to the first race. If she were to be honest with herself, she would say it was an addiction: the low burn of the axel headlight, the vibration of steel beneath her body, the cold nip of the fall air as she cut through it in her bid for first place. And though she was improving with each event, she had not yet claimed that coveted honor. She had managed to capture second in her third race, along with third and fourth in other events. Once she had placed sixth, but that was a race she didn't much like to recall. The others, though, filled her with a satisfaction that buoyed her throughout the tedious days she was occasionally forced to endure. The tedious drivel of society ladies was almost entertaining as she replayed memories of close turns and taunting grins in her mind.

Even her father had noticed her change in demeanor. He'd asked about it once over dinner. Maka, who had been musing on the racer with the orange axel, had replied distractedly, "Hm? Yes, I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

He father had floundered, unused to such a calm response from her. Maka had simply continued with her meal, thoughts still centered on her strictest competition - Spartoi.

It seemed that she had developed some kind of morbid curiosity about the league. She didn't know what it was exactly that had given birth to the interest-was it her adventure outside their headquarters, their reputation as one of the best leagues around, or was it simply because they were the ones she ended up tying with in the races? Whatever the reason, her ears were always open for more information, and despite the paranoia that plagued the racing circuit, there were more than a few wagging tongues happy to satisfy her curiosity.

Unfortunately, Spartoi was secretive, and there were few concrete facts known about them. Eight members made up their ranks, though there were dozens more that comprised their parent organization, Shibusen. Lord Mortimer was their sponsor, and that was a name Maka did recognize. She'd never met him personally, but the eccentric nobleman was well-known in higher circles. He was one of the kinder sponsors, electing to pay his racers well for their time and keep them out of the spotlight. Maka knew there were leagues out there who promoted their riders shamelessly, but she couldn't help think that publicity was a dangerous path to tread. She much preferred her anonymity.

As did Spartoi, it seemed. The only way to recognize their racers was by the little white mark on their axels, and Maka was starting to get better on that front. It made her wonder if perhaps she was earning recognition too. A part of her hoped that she was, while another warned of the risks of attracting too much attention.

Therein lay the problem with Blair's suggestion - it didn't matter if Maka did want someone to share the races with, it simply wasn't possible given her situation. The routine she had developed worked well enough, and wasn't it better to keep to herself anyway? She didn't want to consider the possibilities of what might occur should she place her trust in the wrong person.

She jerked from her reverie as she realized that she'd been polishing the same patch of metal for five minutes. After hastily stowing away the polish and cloth, she gathered up her buckets of screws and her miscellaneous tools and stowed them on the bottom shelf. The garden staff knew the axel was in the shed, of course, but she wasn't going to advertise her campaign to refurbish it. That was to remain strictly between her and Blair.

As she changed into her racing gear later that day, she mused over her decision once more. Trusting anyone in the racing circuit was a dangerous game, and despite Blair's desire for Maka to have companionship, she knew it wasn't feasible. She was a solo racer, and a solo racer she would remain. Several races had passed without mishap; Maka could handle herself.

Three hours later and she would regret those words.

* * *

><p>Soul ripped his cap from his head and threw it to the ground, ignoring the ominous crack as his goggles struck the unforgiving concrete floor. "What," he growled, "the <em>fuck<em> was that?"

"I don't know," Kilik said grimly, tugging on one of his dreadlocks. "But I don't like it."

"No one _likes_ it," Harvar snapped, throwing himself onto an armchair.

Kilik shot him a dirty look. "You know what I mean."

Harvar's reply was cut off as Ox stormed in, face red. "In all my years I have _never_ seen such a blatant disregard-"

"I'm going to murder that solo!" Kim's face clashed with her hair as she pushed past Ox, Jackie hot on her heels. She threw herself on the loveseat, arms crossed and chest heaving in indignation.

"I'll help," her partner muttered darkly. Her motions were stiff and rigid as she sat next to Kim.

"No one goes after my partner like that!" Black*Star yelled, bursting through the door in a blur of blue hair and black vest. "It's a good thing I was there, right Tsubaki?"

Tsubaki followed after him, her normally calm demeanor unusually ruffled. "Yes, Black*Star. But I am alright. I am not the only racer he targeted."

"Yes, but you're Spartoi," Kim called out. "He made it personal."

"Where's the fire?" Nygus emerged from her office, face passive as always beneath its omnipresent bandages. She took one look at the furious Spartoi and her eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"

"Fuckin' solo, that's what happened," Soul growled, scrubbing his hair.

"I don't understand, you always go against solos-"

"Not ones like these. Not ones that blatantly cheat and go after Tsubaki."

Nygus' eyes widened, then narrowed. "Name?"

"Scratched out," Harvar piped up. "And he scarpered before we could catch him. The bastard."

"I'll let management know. Everyone alright?"

Tsubaki nodded. "We are all fine."

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out!" Black*Star said loudly. "A god looks after his followers, after all."

"We look out for each other," Jackie corrected, shooting a sideways glance at Kim. "No high and mighty rule-breaker is going to get in the way of that."

"Well spoken, Jackie," Nygus said. "I'll go let Sid and Stein know." She disappeared through a door in the back of the common room, leaving Spartoi to calm down.

Kilik collapsed into one of the vacant armchairs. "Never seen anything like that before. Racers crash sometimes, but that was something else."

They exchanged nods and the frantic energy dissipated from the room. Chairs scraped noisily as the racers arranged themselves in a loose circle and began to swap accounts of the night's events.

"Who saw him first?" Kim asked. "Jackie and I caught up around King's Road."

"I didn't see anything suspicious until Caledonian," Soul said. "But he was only crowding then."

"He came after me on Junction Road," Tsubaki added. "As you are all aware."

"Wasn't 'round her for long!" Black*Star's eyes gleamed dangerously. "If he'd stuck around, the crash wouldn't have been all the way over on Holloway."

"Bastard almost placed," Harvar growled.

"Do you know which solo he caused to crash?" Ox asked. "It had already occurred by the time I passed."

Soul shook his head. "Racer was behind me; I only heard it happen."

"I've seen the poor sod around once or twice," Kilik said. "Though I suppose that won't happen anymore."

The room went quiet for a long moment as the weight of the situation crashed upon their shoulders. The unlucky racer's fate could have been any of theirs - _had_ almost been one of theirs. Tsubaki rubbed her arms and swallowed heavily, clearly still shaken up. "Was anyone else hurt?" she asked, trying to deflect the attention.

"Another solo got nicked, I think," Kilik said. "The good one - Meister, is it? The crash was messy; metal was flying everywhere. I think he got hit in the arm."

"Well, he placed second, so it couldn't have done that much damage," Harvar muttered.

"Still sore about fourth?" Black*Star snickered.

"There was another racer who got caught in the crash," Jackie added as Harvar snapped something back at Black*Star. "Kim and I saw when we passed."

"Do you know who?"

"I do believe it was a league racer," Ox said. "But the damage was extensive, and I was unable to ascertain the specific symbol."

"If I'd been there, you'd know everything," Black*Star bragged. "These eyes can see it all!"

"Knocks into a solo and flees," Soul glared into empty space. "Meater."

"Sid's going to inform Lord Death tomorrow," Nygus announced as she returned. "We'll let you know what he decides. Stein's free if anyone needs to see him."

"We're all right, Nygus," Kilik said. "Swear."

She hummed. "Keep us posted if anything comes up." The office door closed behind her, and Spartoi was once again alone to speculate over the night's events.

"Do you think it might happen again?" Jackie asked.

"He won't last long if he does," Kim replied immediately.

Black*Star whooped in agreement and leaned over to gently punch her in the arm - well, as gently as Black*Star could, anyway. She leaned away and tried to sock him back, but he moved before she could catch him. "Still gotta work on your timing," he laughed.

Kim moved forward, but Jackie caught her arm. "We talked about this, Kim. Pick your battles."

"He doesn't," she sulked, but settled back down anyway.

"You're not him. And my question was never answered, by the way." Jackie directed this last to the group.

Kilik fiddled with one of his dreadlocks. "I don't think we can say, honestly. Just keep an eye out, yeah?"

"He'd better hope he doesn't run into the great Black*Star!" He poked himself in the chest as he scowled. "No one gets away with going after my partner!"

"I'm with you for once on this," Kim grudgingly acknowledged.

"Kim with Black*Star? Has the world ended so soon?" Liz Thompson put a hand on her hip as she leaned on the doorframe of her workshop. The grin fell off her face as she took in the serious expressions before her, and she straightened. Her eyes flicked over everyone in a silent count, and when she had determined no one was missing, she relaxed slightly and asked, "What happened?"

Kilik was the one to retell the night's events, as he'd been the closest to the crash. Everything had started normally, though they'd all noticed one new solo acting somewhat erratically. It was nothing to worry about, they thought; it took some solos time to adjust to the environment of the races. But when he'd started nudging wheels and cutting others off… that was when the race had taken a turn for the disastrous.

Tsubaki had been the only one of Spartoi to be targeted outright; it was only thanks to her exceptional skill on an axel that she'd avoided a spill. Strangely, once she had recovered, the solo had moved on rather than challenge her again.

It was near the finish that he'd made another move. One small turn of his handlebars and he'd tipped the wheel of a solo next to him and sent him flying. The crash hadn't been clean, and at least one other racer had been caught in the cross-fire, and another injured. Spartoi as a whole was fine, but only by the skin of their teeth. Whether this was to become a pattern remained to be seen.

Liz's lips grew tighter as she listened, and when Kilik had finished, she said, "I'll tell Patti; she's out for parts. And I'll work some of my Whitechapel contacts to see if anyone might know anything."

"Lord Death will know by tomorrow," Ox said. "I suggest we wait and see what he has to say."

Soul didn't like it, but he agreed. He hated feeling so helpless, but there wasn't anything he could do until management discussed the problem. The best course of action for them all would be to continue about their lives until word from the sponsor came back.

The news, when it came, was meager. After all, there wasn't much to be done over a single incident. The only advice handed down was to remain cautious and keep an eye open for further suspicious activity. Black*Star raged against the announcement Sid gave, so much so that Tsubaki was forced to hold him back and speak quickly to him in low tones to calm him down. As usual, her words were a balm to his inflammatory temper, and it wasn't long before Spartoi was going about as usual.

Tension was high before the next race, four days later. Instead of the usual pre-race chatter, the warehouse was silent as the riders adjusted their gear and checked over their axels last minute. Soul was kneeling beside his when Sid called out to him. "Eater! Stein has a word for you."

Soul ignored the jeering whistle Black*Star sent his way and followed Sid to the hallway outside. As they walked, Soul's eyes drifted down to Sid's knee, and he said, "Sounds like Stein oiled up your gears."

Sid snorted. "Tried to convince me to try a prototype joint he's been working on."

"Did you?"

"I'm still walking, aren't I?" He pulled up short next to a door coated in peeling gray paint and knocked twice. A faint "enter" echoed from inside, and Sid opened the door to wave Soul through.

The faint smells of formaldehyde and motor oil tickled his nose as he walked in, leaving no doubt as to who owned the workshop. A lean man dressed in a shabby gray suit and patched lab coat stood next to a stainless steel table bearing a tangled heap of wires and metal. He looked up as they entered, wire-rimmed spectacles flashing in the bright overhead light. A massive screw protruded from his flyaway grey hair; he turned it thoughtfully as he examined his visitor. The man, Dr. Franken Stein was Spartoi's unofficial doctor, though his true passion lay in the soulless husks of machinery that were piled in nearly every corner of the room.

A single copper automaton arm waved jauntily at Soul from where it was wedged in between other spare parts like some kind of macabre metal flag. Mismatched legs were scattered on the floor next to them, along with the odd length of curled tubing. Torsos and other miscellaneous body parts were tossed in stained cardboard boxes that teetered on uneven shelves on the far wall. Nearly every surface of the room was covered in some sort of gadget, whether it be whole or spilling its insides across a table. Soft whirrs, clicks, and squeaks echoed from unseen corners, raising the hair on Soul's neck. There were far too many moving, invisible things in Stein's workshop to ever make him fully comfortable.

"Thank you, Sid," Stein said, voice lilting in that strange way of his. He directed his next words to Soul. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here, then."

Soul raised his eyebrows. "No, I thought I'd just spend a few minutes here before the race. You know how it cheers me right up."

"No need to get uppity," Stein replied. "Now, as you know, there isn't much Lord Death can do about the incident last week. But, upon further reflection, he has decided upon a course of action that will, hopefully, help keep Spartoi out of the line of fire."

"What is it?"

Sid spoke up from beside the door. "You're going recruiting."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. "What? That's his brilliant idea? Invite a solo into Spartoi when it's a solo who started this mess?"

Stein exchanged a glance with Sid, one that Soul caught instantly. "What do you know? What are you not telling me?"

"We have information from a relatively reliable source that indicates the attacks are not a random occurrence. Lord Death believes they will most likely become a trend, and we'd like to prepare ourselves as best we can. Right now, that means another pair of eyes in the races." He sighed as he took in the expression on Soul's face. "Lord Death has been contemplating extending our roster for quite some time. The recent incident has only accelerated his schedule."

Soul looked at Stein carefully, taking in his steady stare and unwavering tone. "And yet there's something else you're not telling me."

"Believe it or not, boy, I've no obligation to tell you everything. Lord Death has decided what must be passed down, and I have done so."

Soul ground his teeth until his jaw ached. "Fine. Who's the poor bastard you're roping in now?"

"He's a solo you've competed closely against: Meister."

"You want _him_? He's only been racing for a few weeks!"

"And in all that time he's never placed lower than sixth. Lord Death thinks he has potential, and would like to extend an invitation. You're to bring him here after the race tonight."

Soul bristled at the man's imperious tone, but it wasn't as though he could simply ignore orders. "Will that be all?" he muttered.

Stein had turned back to his project and started prying at a stretch of tubing wound around a mechanical leg. "For now," he answered distantly.

Soul turned on his heel and stalked back to the door, not waiting for Sid. His shadow flew down the hallway, his footsteps beating out an angry pattern as he went.

"Lord Death only thinks of Spartoi in times like these, you know that." Sid's low voice sounded from right behind him.

Soul slowed to a stop as they neared the common room. "I might understand that better if he took the time to _explain_. Stein is hiding something; I know you noticed it too."

Sid leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "Maybe he is. But he's right; he isn't required to reveal all that he knows."

"So you don't know either."

"It's not my business if they don't want it to be. I was the type of man to trust in his colleagues. Perhaps it's time for you to do the same."

"Trusting others hasn't gotten me too far," Soul said dryly.

"Hasn't it?" Sid asked cryptically. He tilted his head toward the common room, to the racers preparing themselves for the night's competition.

Soul didn't much like the implications behind Sid's words, so he only grumbled incoherently before he crossed the threshold into the common room. Everyone looked up and upon taking in his disgruntled face, eyebrows shot up across the room.

"Stein chew you out?" Black*Star asked. "What was it this time? You swap registration cards again?"

"That was _you?!_" Ox cried. "How dare you, I almost didn't race that day-"

"No, I didn't do anything. And that was Black*Star, not me," Soul said, ignoring Black*Star's loud denials - which, he had to admit, were not as fabricated as he'd made them out to be.

"Then what did he have to say?" Tsubaki asked, eyes on Soul as she touched her partner's shoulder in warning.

"They think the crash from last race won't be a single incident. They have information that it will happen again."

Low chatter broke out among them. "Surely this changes things," Ox said, mouth tight with anxiety. "There must be something more we can do."

"Apparently there is," Soul said dryly. "We're recruiting."

"Recruiting?"

"Are you serious about this?"

"I think it's not half-bad, actually…"

"Could use some new blood."

"It's been two years, hasn't it?"

"How will that do any good?"

Their words bled together in the air, until it was impossible to tell who was saying what. Finally, Soul put two fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly. Heads snapped back to him, and he tried to resist the urge to fidget. "Lord Death says it's another pair of eyes on the ground."

"What will that do, save for adding another person we can't trust?" Kim asked.

"I was also told that he's been wanting another racer for some time, and the crash only pushed him forward a little. That's all I have," Soul answered shortly, and he was pleased to see not everyone seemed receptive to the idea.

"Who is it, then?" Kilik asked. He was one of the few who didn't seem all that fussed about the new addition.

"Meister."

Kilik nodded. "That makes sense. He's done well."

"Doesn't mean we can trust him," Harvar said quietly.

"We will have to see what Dr. Stein thinks after talking with Meister," Tsubaki said diplomatically. "He will be coming here soon, yes?" she asked Soul.

"After the race. I'm to bring him to management."

"Should be an interesting night," Kilik said mildly, raising his eyebrows. "Time to see if they're right about this trend."

* * *

><p>It was a simple circuit that night, with the occasional extra official planted along the edges of the crowd. Some wondered at the additional security, especially when there had only been one accident in the races. If the sponsors had been anyone else, nothing might have changed, but given that it was the nobility pouring their resources into the event, every caution was being taken to protect their investments. Soul curled his lip at the officers stationed by the start. He doubted any of them cared about the racers past what their lives cost to their leagues.<p>

The engines sounded feral that night, as though they too could sense the change in the air. There had been crashes before, had even been attempts to cheat through races. But never before had there been such a blatant act of hostility, and it seemed Spartoi was not the only league who believed the act to be the first of many. Heads swiveled along the start line, each racer wondering if his neighbor had more than first place on his mind.

However the race turned out, it was certain to be a memorable one.

He wasn't wrong. Right from the start, it was apparent that the violent streak would continue as a different solo darted between racers, cutting too close and edging as many as he could towards the dangerous bumps of the curb. Every time someone tried to go after the rogue rider, though, he managed to slip away to find another target.

Soul's jaw and knuckles ached from the tension. His eyes were constantly moving, questioning every rider who came anywhere close to him. So far there'd only been one illegal racer, but who was to say that there weren't more? No one could afford to let their guard down, and it made the race one of the least enjoyable of Soul's career. There was no feeling of bliss, no sigh of ecstasy as he took in the wind against his face and the steam bubbling through the pipes beneath him. This was a hunt, and Soul had never enjoyed being prey.

And yet Soul was unmatched in his field; despite the hardships and the cheating, he still managed to take first easily. Jackie, surprisingly, came next, followed by Harvar, then Meister. Soul sent a critical look his way, but decided to save the fetching until after Spartoi dispersed. There wasn't a guarantee that he would join - though the idea that he might turn down such a reputable league was laughable - so there was no use in parading him out in front of the others until his contract was signed.

Kim was the next Spartoi member to cross the line, followed by Kilik and two solos. Black*Star came next, then Ox, and Tsubaki last. Soul took one look at Kilik's face and could guess well enough what had happened.

"He took out a league member right behind me. Backed up quite a stretch of track."

"You see the solo who did it?" Soul craned his neck, searching the gathering crowd for the hostile racer.

"I think he split right after the crash. Understandable; his chances of crossing the finish without repercussions are slim."

"Meater," Soul repeated his insult from earlier, his blood uncomfortably warm at the thought of someone racing for the sake of violence.

"We'll see you in the warehouse. Someone's off to play fetch, isn't he?"

Soul punched a laughing Kilik in the shoulder before straddling his axel again and carefully maneuvering it through the crowd, eyes scanning for forest green. He saw it pulled off towards the edge of the street, where Meister was kneeling on the pavement, hands moving carefully across his axel's side as he checked for anything out of place. Soul felt a grudging respect for the gesture - there was something to be said for a racer who cared for his cycle like that. However, it still didn't mean he had to like Lord Death's proposition, so it was with a scowl that he parked nearby and dismounted. Meister glanced up as he approached, then stood to his full height, body tense and on guard.

In that instant that Soul was struck by how small Meister actually was off his axel. The top of his head barely brushed Soul's chin, and he had to look up to meet Soul's eye. That wasn't to say he had any less power due to his smaller stature; more likely it was an advantage, as it was with horse jockeys. The less weight the axel had to carry, the faster one could go.

This, of course, reminded Soul of why he was really there, and his thoughts soured once more as he pulled the goggles off his face and propped them up on the brim of his cap. Never one to mince words, he grunted, "Got an offer for you."

Meister tilted his head, tinted-green eyes watched him from behind glass goggles, their emotion unreadable. "What kind of offer?" he asked, voice muffled by the collar pulled over his mouth.

"Our sponsor likes you. He wants a chat."

"About what?"

Soul barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What else would a sponsor ask a solo for? So many on the circuit were begging for league membership; how could this one miss a chance as obvious as this? "Spartoi's extending an invitation of membership. You're to come with me to discuss terms."

Meister's eyes narrowed suddenly. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Soul huffed. "I _am_ Spartoi, you know. You've raced against me plenty."

"Pardon me, but the races the way they are now, I don't trust anyone." His hand drifted up to his arm, and he rubbed at a spot that bulged strangely underneath his sleeve.

Soul recalled Kilik's account of the previous week's race and said, "That's right; you were hit, weren't you?"

"It's nothing serious," Meister dismissed, moving his hand away.

"And the next time?" Soul asked, unable to believe that he was trying to convince Meister to come with him. Well, his job had been to deliver him to management, and then it was up to them. But he was required to get Meister there. "It's only a conversation. No obligations; you're free to walk away."

Meister paused for a long time; despite the coverings on his face, Soul could see his mind churning as he considered his words. He almost thought the racer's brain might overheat, but finally he met Soul's gaze once more. "No obligations, you said? I can decline the offer if I don't like what I hear?"

Soul shrugged. "Yes. Though you'd be a fool to walk away." He began walking backwards to his cycle, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Well, that's my decision to make then, isn't it? Eater?" Meister tacked on his alias as he looked over Soul's axel.

Soul grinned widely, showcasing his abnormally sharp teeth. "Let's hope you don't make the wrong decision, then."

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

spanner: wrench

scarper: run away

meater: coward


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_And just what do you think you're doing? _a little voice in the back of Maka's head - one that sounded eerily similar to a wizened old nursemaid of years past - tutted at her. _You know this is a terrible idea, don't you? Of course you do. But you're going to follow him anyway because you're much too curious for your own good and eventually it's going to get you killed!_

_Perhaps_, Maka replied to herself. _But I don't believe that to be today. I know what I decided, but… one conversation can't hurt, can it? No obligations, no requirements, absolutely nothing binding at all. Surely that can't hurt. _

The voice in her head snorted. _You'll regret saying that one day._

_I don't believe I will._ Maka shoved the shrill little voice to the back of her mind, where it continued to buzz and complain. But Maka didn't have any more time to argue with herself - Eater was quick on his axel and she needed to move if she was to follow him. Her movements were nearly automatic; the weeks spent racing had trained her body well. Still, she had a difficult time squeezing past the crowds. Several times she nearly lost sight of the racer leading her, but the bright orange paint of his cycle would flash in the gaps between people and she would find her path once more. Finally, with a relieved exhale, she emerged from the noise and confusion, but Eater gave her no time to catch her breath. Tailpipes dribbled steam as he tucked his foot against his axel and increased his pace, leading her towards Camden Road and the warehouse she'd found two weeks ago. Her mind still warred against itself as she followed him, but there was no turning back. They had her curiosity now, and that was a hard thing to lose.

The alley was nearly invisible in the low light; only Eater's sudden disappearance warned her of its presence. He slowed to a stop in front of the garage door and dismounted, flipping down the kickstand to steady the cycle. When Maka hesitated to do the same, he jerked his head to the mouth of the alley. "Goin' in through the front," he said. "Just leave your cycle here. No one will take it."

Maka copied his movements and left her axel beside his, the size difference glaringly obvious as they rested next to each other. Her cycle really was unlike any other model she had seen before. Not for the first time, Maka wondered at the extent of her mother's craftsmanship.

Eater shoved his hands in his pockets and walked in a slouch as he led her out onto the street and around the building. Three rickety steps led to a bolted front door, but before Maka could climb them, Eater swung around and fixed her with an intense glare. Maka met his gaze steadily. After a moment, he sighed and pulled his cap off to scrub at his startlingly pale white hair.

"I'll be honest with you Meister, I wasn't too pleased to hear we were recruiting. But I'm not the one making those decisions, so here you are."

"Are you recruiting me or trying to scare me off?" Maka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure. Which one's working?"

"Neither. You'll have to try harder than that."

He raised an eyebrows. "Most solos would kill for this opportunity."

"Yes, I suppose they would."

"But you wouldn't."

"I don't let rumor and reputation cloud my judgment."

Something in his eyes changed then, and Maka couldn't help the feeling that she had passed some sort of test. "Good philosophy, I suppose."

"Am I allowed inside now, or do you have more challenges to throw at me?"

"Not a challenge. A word of advice."

"Oh?"

"I started as a solo like you. Thought I could take on the races myself, that I didn't need anyone else. Then Spartoi recruited me, like they're doing with you now. I don't regret it."

"I was under the impression you didn't want me to join."

"Don't care either way. I'm just following orders."

Maka didn't quite believe him, but Eater didn't look inclined to continue. He turned to the door and knocked six times - four quickly, then twice more at a slower pace. Seconds later, it swung open to reveal a bulky man swathed in shadows. "Sid," Eater greeted. "Meister, as you requested." He stepped aside and gestured to Maka, allowing her to catch a full glimpse of the man named Sid inside.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shock. Dull, gray-washed eyes sunken into a tinted blue face peered down at her, his welcoming smile more a baring of teeth than a friendly gesture. "Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if Eater had decided to leave you in an alley somewhere." Maka found herself relaxing as he spoke - while frightening in appearance, Sid's voice was calming in its quiet rumble.

Eater grumbled. "You asked, didn't you? I did my job."

"That you did," he agreed, beckoning them forward through the door. "Come now, you don't want to keep them waiting."

Maka hesitated for a split second as Eater disappeared inside. It was one thing to agree to his proposal while sitting at the finish line, surrounded by hordes of racers and spectators; it was another thing entirely to look into the empty, dusty gloom of the warehouse and keep going.

"Change your mind?" Eater asked, leaning back out to look at her. While his face remained blank, his eyes flashed with smug triumph.

That was all the push Maka needed. She squared her shoulders and climbed the steps confidently, shooting Eater a cold look as she passed him.

A wheezing hiss echoed from Sid's chest as he watched her. "This will be an interesting conversation, at least."

Eater smacked him in the shoulder, and Maka swore she heard a hollow clank. Sid grimaced and rubbed the joint, mumbling under his breath as he turned to the back door. Wondering what exactly she had stumbled into, Maka followed.

Their footsteps were muted on the cracked concrete floor; the wind from their movements kicked up dust and bits of paper. The door in the back opened into a long hallway stretching down either side. Gaslamps lit the space well and flickered happily at Maka as she passed. A door to the right further down the hallway was propped open slightly; the low buzz of conversation was just audible through the gap. It ceased as the strange-looking man called Sid knocked gently, and a low voice called, "Come in."

Sid pushed the door open, and Maka found herself staring into a workshop cluttered with automaton parts and and mechanical gears of every kind. Steam hissed and hinges squeaked, clockwork machinery ticked and pistons whirred. In a way, the space reminded her of a toy shop, though it seemed infinitely more sinister and bizarre.

Three figures were scattered inside; all turned to look Maka as she entered. In the center was a man dressed in a frayed doctor's coat watching her through wire-rimmed spectacles. Maka's eyes widened as she took in the massive screw sprouting from his head. He turned it as he assessed her, the metal clicking ominously in the quiet. A cigarette lazily trailed smoke from where it dangled between his lips, which were crooked in a knowing smile.

Beside him stood a man in a finely pressed black suit, hands folded precisely in front of him. He did not appear much older than Maka herself, but his stiffness and posture spoke to a breeding much higher than those around him. Three stark white stripes colored his raven-black hair, and liquid gold eyes watched her passively.

On the opposite side of the room, a dark-skinned woman wrapped in bandages leaned against a row of shelves. Sid whispered a few quiet words in her ear before settling himself beside her. Maka couldn't see most of the woman's face, but the look in her eye made Maka think that she might have been smiling.

Eater settled himself on a rickety stool by the door. His movements seemed to spur the others into motion, and the meeting began.

"Before we talk of membership," the man with the striped hair said, "allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Kidd Mortimer, though you may call me Kidd. I'll be acting as sponsor liaison for this meeting."

"And I'm Nygus, racing coordinator and overseer," the bandaged woman said. "You've met Sid, my partner, already."

Maka looked between Mira and Sid, taking in how close they were standing, and wondered if perhaps there was something more behind the word.

"My name," the man with the screw said, "is Dr. Franken Stein. I serve as Spartoi's medical officer."

"Now that introductions are out of the way," Kidd said, "I suggest we proceed. Are there any objections?"

Eater snorted. "This isn't a boardroom, Kidd. You can dismount the high horse you're on."

"When I want your opinion, Eater, I'll ask for it," he sniffed, but there was no malice on his face. The interaction felt like an old and practiced one, something exchanged between colleagues regularly.

Kidd cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I believe Eater explained to you the purpose behind this gathering?"

"I'm to be recruited into Spartoi, yes, though I was told this was a conversation only - no obligations."

Kidd nodded. "That is true. We will give you our proposal, then await your decision. Should you decline, you are free to leave."

"Then by all means, go on."

"According to our records, you've been on the circuit for approximately three weeks, correct?" When Maka confirmed this, he continued. "I suppose you're wondering why we're recruiting you so early in your racing career."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Potential, kid," Nygus said, winking at her. "You've got it in spades."

Maka waved a hand in dismissal. "Plenty of solos have that, I'm sure."

Sid shook his head. "We've run the numbers. You're one of the best the circuit has seen in years. Lord Death wants you."

"Of course, the timing is fortuitous." Stein titled his head, fingers drumming against the screw.

"Fortuitous how?"

"Surely you're aware of the escalating violence within the races."

"I don't think there's a racer on the streets who's unaware," Maka said dryly. "What does that have to do with me?"

"We'd like to bolster our ranks in preparation. Another set of wheels on the circuit, another pair of eyes watching for rogues."

"You want another fighter for the war you think is coming," Maka clarified. "I'm a racer, sir. Not a soldier."

A loud clap startled her. "_Thank_ you," Eater said. "I knew I couldn't be the only one who thought this proposal was mad."

"If you want to recruit me for my racing, then by all means, do so. But don't assume I'll live and breathe by your orders." Maka's words came out strong, filled with the resolve she'd been fumbling for since Eater had approached her.

"Of course," Kidd said in a rush. "No one is ordering you to do anything. If our proposal isn't to your tastes, you are more than welcome to the door."

Well, Maka wasn't that put off yet. She gave Kidd a strange look as Eater thought aloud behind her. "You already said that, Kidd. Why offer him another out… unless you don't want him to join?"

Him? Surely they didn't think… but of course. Why wouldn't they? Maka's social class wasn't the only thing her gear hid from them. She smiled widely and bit her lips. What a surprise this would be when they found out the truth!

Meanwhile, Kidd vehemently denied Eater's accusation, but the faint flush on his cheeks told another story.

"What's this about, Kidd?" Sid asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Kidd swore. "I was simply making it clear that if Meister wished to, he could leave at anytime-"

"Wait a moment," Eater said. "Nygus, Spartoi has eight members now, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "It does, yes."

"And if Meister does decide to join, eight would become nine, wouldn't it?"

Kidd's eye twitched, and Eater had his answer. "You're not actually discouraging him from joining because of _symmetry_, are you?"

"And what about you?" Maka asked, turning to face him. "I believe you told me similar things outside."

"My reasons have nothing to do with numbers," Eater scoffed.

"Enough!" Kidd held his hands out in front of him and took a deep breath. "I have expressed my opinion to my father," he said calmly, "and I was overruled. I am complying with his wishes to the best of my ability. Now, if we might continue…?"

"If you can manage it," Eater muttered, but he waved a hand to Kidd.

"I understand your caution," Kidd said to Maka, ignoring the racer. "We believe the league can offer you better opportunities in the races. You've realized by now the difficulty in entering as a solo, without access to reliable mechanics and inexpensive repairs. Spartoi can offer you both should you choose to join."

"Not to mention the people you'll be working with," Nygus added. "You might think you can hack it on your own, but you'd be surprised what teammates have to offer you. Eater?"

Eater lifted a shoulder half-heartedly. "I don't know why you picked me to sell this, but yes. I was a solo before joining Spartoi and all I'll say is this: league racing is something else entirely."

Maka played with the hem of her coat, winding a string around her finger again and again as she listened. Every point they brought up was something she'd considered on her own, and it wasn't making her decision any easier. She knew the benefits and the drawbacks. What she didn't know, however, was: "Why me?"

"As we said-"

Maka cut Stein off. "I know what you said. What I'd like to know is the truth."

Sid's eyebrows shot up as Eater let out a bark of laughter behind her. "I like this one," Nygus said approvingly. "He's got spirit."

Maka didn't look away from Stein, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. Instead he seemed fascinated with her ribcage; she crossed her arms and shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Well?" she prodded.

Stein gave her an enigmatic smile. "You came highly recommended." And that was all he would say.

Maka's brows drew together. Highly recommended? No one in the circuit knew who she was, never mind knew her well enough to pass her name along for recruitment. Who in the world would know enough about her to point Spartoi in her direction?

She looked to the others for clarification, but she only received shrugs and shaken heads. Desperate, she turned to Eater, but all he said was, "Don't look at me; no one ever tells me anything."

Maka shook her head. What had she walked in on, and was she really considering committing herself to it? The short answer was yes, but before her thoughts could wander any farther, Stein spoke again. "One last thing you might consider before making your decision."

"Yes?"

"Racing solo may have been difficult before, but think of the dangers present now. Within a league you share the protection of teammates and a sponsor, whereas as a solo, it is every man for himself. Think of your safety before you give us an answer."

"Careful. That sounds dangerously close to a threat," Maka replied mildly.

"Not a threat, merely the truth. Racing is dangerous, and a league can assist in making sure you finish each one intact."

"As ugly as it sounds, Stein is right," Nygus said. "It's not the best system, but it's the one we have."

"And with that, the decision is yours," Kidd said, gesturing to her.

The room went quiet, and Maka tried not to think about the eyes watching her. The prickling on the back of her neck told her that as disinterested as Eater had tried to seem, he was looking at her just as intensely.

For the first time in her life, Maka found her thoughts stalling. As much as she tried, she could not seem to focus on the decision at hand. She knew the benefits, knew the costs, but trying to weigh them against the other felt like comparing handfuls of water. Every time she tried to latch onto a thought, it slipped through her fingers.

Why could she not focus? What was wrong with her? This was one of the most important decision she'd ever made, one that would shape the coming years of her life, and nothing was coming to mind.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. No coherent arguments were coming to mind. The only thought that consistently remained was one word, one that she was trying to steadfastly ignore: yes.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the overwhelming feeling that Spartoi was the right choice. It wasn't based on the arguments they'd presented to her or reasons that she'd come up with on her own - that would have been much too simple. No, this was an instinctual thing, a knowledge deep in her gut that she belonged there in the warehouse.

Maka wanted to hesitate - how wise could it be to base a decision on nothing more than a feeling? But ever since she'd gained that strange ability to see the blue orbs, she couldn't deny that her instincts had grown sharper. Not once could she recall ever being led astray by these feelings, so perhaps it was in her best interest to listen to them now.

"Very well," she said suddenly. "I accept." Speaking to Kidd she said, "My apologies to your symmetry."

Kidd sighed. "I was prepared for the possibility. Are you certain?"

"I am."

"Then on behalf of my father, I welcome you to Spartoi. He will be very pleased to hear of your decision. In a few days I'll be back with your contract, but as of this moment you are an official member of Spartoi." He extended a stiff hand to her.

"Thank you," Maka said. She shook his hand, only to have him reach out with the other.

"If you would please," Kidd said. "This makes it more even."

Maka didn't see the sense in it, but she did as he asked. He relaxed as he pulled his hand back.

A snort came from behind her. "Still need to shake both hands? You're as strange as ever, Kidd."

"I'm well aware, Eater," Kidd said dryly. "As you make your opinion known nearly every time we meet. Now if you'll excuse me, my father and I have terms to discuss." He nodded to the group before leaving.

"You've made the right choice," Sid said, beaming in his strange way. He clapped Maka on the shoulder, his arm a heavier weight than she expected.

"Of course he did, it's Spartoi," Nygus said, extending her own hand. Bandages dangled from her wrist to float in the air. "I think you'll enjoy your time here," she said warmly, her eyes sparkling.

"I think I just might," Maka said, a small smile growing on her face. These were certainly an odd cast of characters, but Maka had a feeling that they were all good souls. She knew without a doubt that she'd done the right thing.

"Knowing the others, they'll be anxious to meet our newest member," Eater drawled, his stool screeching as he stood up. "I suppose I'll just take him along to the common room then?"

"Yes, go on," Stein said distractedly. He gave them a quick glance, but turned back as he took in Maka's face. "Actually..."

"What is it now?" Eater said shortly.

"Your collar," Stein said, pointing to Maka's face. "It is no concern of ours if you want to conceal your name or true identity, but faces are not to be covered."

Maka couldn't help it; her eyes darted to Nygus and the bandages covering her face.

Stein caught the movement. "I suppose I should clarify: new members are not to hide their faces. We may not care about your name, but your face is something you cannot hide. You understand?"

Maka nodded, and for a brief second, she wondered if showing her face would give away her identity. However, as she looked at those surrounding her, she knew that there would be no danger. She knew none of these people, so there could be no way they knew her by face alone. The only thing she would reveal was her true gender, and since there was no real risk in that regard, their reactions were something she thought she might enjoy. "I've neglected to introduce myself, haven't I? Meister may be my alias, but you may call me Maka."

Slowly, she peeled the collar off her mouth and tucked it around her neck before pulling up her goggles and removing her cap. Blonde hair fell past her cheeks, tangled and matted in sweat and looking much more unkempt than she'd hoped her first impression would be.

Silence fell. Then, out of the quiet, a booming laugh. Sid nearly doubled over, his arm braced on a shelf as he chuckled. "Well done, Maka," he said between gasps. "You're going to be quite the handful, I'm sure."

Maka couldn't be certain, but she thought that Nygus might again be smiling behind her bandages. She shook her head slowly, then nodded in respect. "Welcome to Spartoi, Maka."

Stein, of course, looked as unaffected as before. He simply hummed and turned back to his work, soon becoming lost in his thoughts.

Only Eater looked truly taken aback. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again as he stared at her. Maka couldn't help the bubble of amusement in her throat. "Is something the matter?" she asked innocently, her voice ringing out clearly and unmistakably feminine now that it was unobstructed. "Is there something on my face?"

Eater spluttered, then closed his mouth with a snap. "You're a woman?" he finally asked, sounding slightly dazed.

"Am I?" she asked, running a hand down her coat and looking down. "I hadn't noticed."

His jaw twitched. "You - why didn't you mention?"

"You never asked."

"She does have a point, Soul," Sid pointed out, a grin still on his face.

"Why are you so surprised?" Nygus asked, raising an eyebrow. "You race against women in every event."

"Yes, I know," Eater snapped. "This was just… unexpected."

"You don't believe a woman can be as good as I am?" Maka crossed her arms, a devilish grin on her face.

"_No_," Eater said vehemently. "I have every respect for your gender."

Nygus laughed. "Relax, Soul, she's only badgering you."

Eater (Soul?) grumbled under his breath. "So long as she doesn't make it a habit."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Maka said cheekily.

He glared at her, but Stein spoke up before he could say anything. "It nearly slipped my mind, but there is one more item of business we must take care of: partnering."

"I was wondering how we might address that," Nygus said, thinking aloud. "We've eight members now, but with Maka's addition we're no longer even."

"While not ideal, the situation is not impossible," Stein said, shuffling through a few papers on his worktable. He consulted one before saying, "After all, Kilik and Soul are not officially partners; either would be free to pair with Maka."

"Kilik's got the twins to look out for," Sid said. "I doubt he'll have much time to show Maka the ropes."

"Then Soul, you'll be Maka's partner," Stein said with a finality that allowed for no argument.

Eater sighed. "If I must."

"Soul?" Maka asked, brow wrinkled. "I thought-"

"Eater's my alias, in case you hadn't realized," Eater/Soul said slowly, as though Maka were a rather dim child. "My actual name is Soul."

"Forgive my confusion, but Soul isn't much of a name either," she said dryly.

Soul grit his teeth. "Must I pair with her?"

"Yes," Nygus said cheerfully. "I think she'll be good for you."

Soul eyed Maka warily. "If you say so."

"And with that last piece of business," Stein said distractedly, scribbling something on a sheet of paper before him. "I believe that's all. We'll summon you again if we need anything else."

"Summon," Soul drawled. "Awfully high and mighty of you, Doc."

"You'll come when you're called, Eater," Stein said mildly. "Now go be somewhere else."

The four filed out of Stein's office. Once the door had shut behind them, Nygus shook her head as she and Sid started down the hall. "That man. I'll never understand him."

"I don't think that's exclusive to you, Nygus," Soul called after her. To Maka's surprise, he stayed by her side as they started down the hallway. For someone who had appeared less than pleased with his assignment, he seemed to be taking it in stride.

Shaking the curious thoughts from her head, she asked, "You said he was the doctor? But he seems so… off-putting."

"Which is why I'd recommend you don't get scraped up," Soul replied. "Unless you'd like to spend a day in the workshop of horrors."

"Is that a common risk? Injuries, I mean."

"Not if you're good." He bared his teeth at her in a display obviously meant to intimidate, but Maka didn't move.

"You must have spent some time in there, then."

Her words echoed down the hallway, prompting another wheezing laugh from up ahead. Soul shot her a warning look. "Watch your step, Maka."

She scowled at his tone. "It doesn't matter how much you don't want me here, or how much you try to intimidate me. You'll find that I won't be swayed so easily."

"We'll see," was the only thing he said before pausing in front of a sliding steel door. Sid heaved it open, and a wave of loud conversation crashed over them as they stepped inside.

A room at least three stories high loomed before her, filled with mismatched furniture, axels, and people. If she'd thought the gathering in Stein's office had been eclectic, it was nothing compared to the group she saw now.

A loud whoop cut through the chatter as a black-and-blue blur streaked across the room. "New disciple!" it said, screeching to a halt in front of her. Maka found herself facing a compact man dressed in a black vest and white pants, his hair colored a vivid shade of sky blue. He inspected her carefully, thick arms crossed over his chest. "You're tiny," he announced finally.

"That doesn't seem to stop you," Maka shot back, eyes narrowed.

"A god like me could never be considered tiny," he scoffed, but his face was light. "But you'll do." He wheeled around to face the others and announced, "Oi! Fresh blood's here!"

The room slowly went quiet as the remaining racers turned to look at her. She met their gazes evenly, pleased to note that most seemed open and friendly.

"_You._"

The word rang out like a church bell, heavy and demanding in its presence. The man who'd spoken it sat in a high-backed armchair, white-tinted goggles hiding his eyes as he bolted upright. He stared at Maka, who took in the towering sideburns on either side of his head and groaned.

"What is _she_ doing here?" he demanded, lip curled in disgust.

Soul gave him a funny look. "I told you I was recruiting tonight, Ox. Did you hit your head?"

Ox spluttered as he pointed to her. "You mean that's Meister?"

"Do you know her?" Soul asked, confused. He turned to Maka. "Does he know you?"

"Yes and no," Maka hedged. "I can explain."

"You remember the fool I caught outside the warehouse two weeks ago?" Ox said in a rush, desperate to cut her off. "She was there sniffing around as well!"

"Was she now?" a slim girl with pink hair drawled. She was seated on the couch, a pale, dark-haired girl next to her. "I'd like to hear that explanation."

"I think I would too," Soul said, a bemused expression on his face.

Maka became defensive. "He's exaggerating; I was most certainly not sniffing around!"

"Were you lost?" Another racer with tinted goggles watched her, face inscrutable.

"...No."

"Then what were you doing wandering around our warehouse?" A dark-skinned racer leaned against one of the armchairs, looking more amused than anything else.

"I was walking down Camden Road when I saw the man he told you about," -Maka pointed to Ox- "sneaking down the alleyway. I grew suspicious and followed him to see what was going on."

"You followed a man down an alleyway because he was acting suspicious?" Soul asked, eyebrows disappearing underneath his fringe.

"While I admit it was not the most sensible decision I have ever made," Maka admitted, "I certainly had no ill intentions and he knows that." She nodded to Ox, who scowled at her.

"Ox, is this true?" A tall Asian girl came to stand by the blue-haired racer's side, her face open and kind.

"She may have mentioned as much to me at the time," Ox admitted, "but that says nothing about its verity!"

"I am telling the truth," Maka insisted. "I had heard rumors of Spartoi being located somewhere in this vicinity, and I wondered if perhaps the man meant harm. I was only trying to do you a service; I apologize if my actions appeared to be anything else."

"I believe she is telling the truth," the tall girl said. She smiled at Maka, who couldn't help but smile back.

"Maybe she wanted an autograph!" the blue-haired racer said loudly.

"I'm sorry, but you are...?" Maka asked.

"Only the mighty Black*Star, the greatest racer to ever live!" he said, affronted. "You're new, though, so I'll let your ignorance slide this time."

"Star, back off," Soul grumbled. "She doesn't even know names yet because someone," -he shot Ox a glare- "couldn't keep his gob shut."

"I was only attempting to keep the league's best interests in mind," Ox replied hotly.

"Well, the matter has been settled," the Asian girl said. "And I will start with introductions: my name is Tsubaki, though you may better know my alias, Camellia."

Maka shook her hand, and soon her mind was buzzing with name and faces and aliases. Most seemed friendly enough, though there were those that kept their distance. She knew not to take it personally - she was still new, and it was logical that they would not trust her yet. Maka would have to work for it, and she found herself looking forward to the opportunity.

"Where's this fresh blood I heard about?" A voice like bells cut through the air, and everyone turned to see a tall brunette leaning out of a door to the left of the main entrance. Her gaze found Maka instantly, and they assessed her carefully. "Is this her?"

"Maka," she said, waving. "Or Meister, as I'm known in the circuit."

"Liz Thompson, mechanic." She turned back inside and said, "Oi, Patti, put down that spanner and get over here!"

A younger girl with short blonde hair wearing a bowler hat joined her, bright blue eyes eager, yet wary.

"Meister," Liz mulled, tapping her chin as they approached. "I've heard some things about you."

"You have?" Maka asked, a little taken aback.

"Well, I should say I've heard about your axel. Apparently it's a strange one."

A spark danced in Maka's chest and she grinned. "I can show you if you'd like." Here was the moment she'd been waiting for, the moment of glory for her mother's work.

Patti looked positively gleeful as she rubbed her hands together. "Well? Where is it?"

Soul jerked his head to the garage door. "Left 'em it in the alley."

The corrugated steel door lifted with nary a creak or a whine, revealing the two cycles parked outside. Soul maneuvered his in first and Maka followed, her heart pounding an erratic rhythm in her chest. Now she would finally get her answers, and the excitement made her hands tremble.

Maka deposited her axel in front of them, then stepped back and held out her hands. "She's all yours to look at."

Liz dropped to her knees and ran her hands across the engine casing as Patti leaned over it and traced a pipe with one finger. "Where," Liz asked in awe, "did you get this?"

"My mother left it to me."

"Where did _she_ get it?" Liz demanded. "I have never in my life seen a cycle like this, and I've seen more cycles than you can count."

"She modified it, I believe," Maka answered proudly.

"She had to," Patti piped up. "It's an older model, Lizzie, see? Probably an LDC-564."

"Yes, you're right," her sister agreed. "But that one didn't have such narrow tailpipes. But I don't understand why she'd add new ones, unless..." She trailed off as she probed the underside of the axel. Her eyes widened as her hand reached something, and she pulled back. "She retrofitted an S-curve switchplate."

Patti's eyes lit up. "She did? But how did she work around the camshaft?"

"She modified the clevises, too, I think," Liz said distantly, brows drawn together as she thought aloud. "But I'd have to take a closer look to be sure." She looked to Maka. "Would you mind?"

"I was hoping you would, actually," Maka admitted. "I've been trying to puzzle it out, but I'm no mechanic. I've been looking for someone to help and you two look like just the ones."

Liz beamed at her. "Your mother was a genius," she said. "And I think your axel is going to be a veritable gold mine."

Maka smiled back. "I do hope so."

Liz stood up, wiping her hands on her skirts as she did. "Maka's alright in my book," she announced. "I don't know about the rest of you, but she's alright with me."

Patti nodded vigorously, nearly upsetting her hat. "And me!" she chirped. "Can we start now?" she asked her sister.

Liz looked to Maka, who waved a hand at her. "Go, see what secrets you can find. As long as you get her back to me in one piece for the next race!"

Liz tossed off a small salute. "Yes, sir!" They took her axel and wheeled it back into their workshop, chattering animatedly amongst themselves.

"You've been racing on a modified axel?" Ox spoke up then, watching Maka with intense dislike.

"I have," Maka confirmed, still too exhilarated by the prospect of finding answers to care about his animosity.

"And you call yourself a talented racer," he scoffed. "You've only been relying on your cycle this entire time."

Maka frowned and was about to reply when Kilik, the racer with feathered dreadlocks, did so for her. "We all let Liz and Patti tweak our axels, Ox. Even yours. So lay off, alright?"

Ox huffed and didn't look convinced. Before he could continue, Tsubaki attempted to ease the tension by asking, "Maka, will you be partnering with anyone?"

She nodded, giving her a grateful smile. "They've paired me with Soul."

"They have, have they?" Kilik said, looking surprised. "That sounds like quite a match."

Soul grumbled unintelligibly, much to his teammate's amusement. "'Bout time you had someone to keep you in line," Kim, the pink-haired racer, said. She had been watching Maka with caution, but seemed a little more open to her after hearing this.

"Don't you all have rewards to collect?" Soul said sharply.

Eventually the rest of Spartoi lost interest in their newest member, and Maka and Soul were left by themselves as the others took to the seats in the middle. Black*Star was boasting about his performance that night, and though his voice was loud and demanding, Maka ignored him as she focused on her new partner.

It wasn't difficult to see that Soul was less than pleased with the decision. She couldn't blame him for that - he hardly knew her, after all. Still, she hoped it wouldn't affect her racing, prompting her to say, "I know this probably isn't what you wanted-"

He shook his head, and for a moment, Maka felt sick to her stomach. "It may not be what I was expecting, but we're paired now, and that means we look out for each other. I swear that I'll uphold my end if you do as well, alright?"

Maka blinked at him in shock before weakly nodding. Who in the world was this man standing beside her, who complained loudly about his assignment then turned around and said something like _that?_ "Yes. Yes, alright. Partners." She stuck her hand for him to shake. He stared at it for a moment before reaching out to grasp it. His hand was warm and a little rough from the handlebars, and it held her own firmly.

"Partners it is."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Despite Maka's new place within Spartoi, she knew her transition from outsider to trusted member would not be a quick or easy road. The ink on her contract may have dried, but her initiation had only just started. She understood their apprehension, of course, but that didn't mean she had to _like_ it.

Soul seemed to be part of the problem. He did exactly what was required of him - he showed her how to fill out her registration card each week, how to submit a maintenance request to the Thompsons, what to do if she was selected for an errand - but he did nothing more than that. No extraneous conversation, no personal details, nothing outside of Spartoi duties and procedures. He held her at arm's length, and though Maka was half-expecting it, a part of her still wished for more.

That wasn't to say the others were as standoffish. Kilik was friendly and extremely likeable, and he had no reservations about Spartoi's new member. Tsubaki, too, welcomed Maka with open arms, and she found herself growing close to the willowy Asian beauty. Tsubaki's partner, on the other hand, was a wild, obnoxious creature, and though Maka respected his abilities, she knew without a doubt that they would never get along perfectly. To his credit, Black*Star treated Maka the same as he treated anyone else - with a slap on the back and a yell in the ear - and she was grateful to him for that.

Jackie and Harvar were indifferent to her presence, and while Kim remained reserved, Ox was openly hostile. His animosity seemed to extend past the incident outside the warehouse, though Maka had no earthly idea as to what had ignited his ire. Her best course of action, she'd decided, was to avoid him until she figured it out.

Two weeks after she'd joined, her standing within the league abruptly changed, and it all started with a card game.

The night's race had been pushed back as sponsors and officials scrambled once again to protect the event, so there was a good hour to kill before anyone had to be anywhere. Black*Star had then proposed a card game and the others eagerly agreed, leaving Maka to fidget and wonder if she was included in the invitation.

Kilik noticed her awkwardness and waved for her to join them. "Have you ever played three-card Loo before?"

Maka shook her head. Kilik moved his chair so that she might sit beside him within the circle of players and began explaining the game.

"The goal is to take at least one trick on each hand. You take tricks by trumping with higher cards, which are dealt to you in the beginning of each round. Each player gets three cards, and you have to decide if you think you can pick up any tricks. If not, you fold. If you decide to play, though, better hope you take a trick."

"What happens if you don't?" Maka asked, watching the events on the table carefully.

"You have to add three bolts to the pot," Kilik said, holding up a handful of screws.

"Isn't gambling usually done with money?"

"We don't take from winnings here. If you do well, you've earned that money and no one wants to take that."

"Then you trade… bolts?"

"Not the bolts," Kim corrected, shuffling the cards. "What the bolts _represent_."

"So… what do they represent?" Maka asked, feeling a little overwhelmed, yet still determined. This was her best chance at finally assimilating into the group, and she wasn't about to waste it because she was feeling a little confused.

"Anything you want them to," Kim replied, her smile not quite friendly.

"So you add three bolts to the pot when you don't take a trick?" Maka clarified.

"Right. At the end of the round, whoever manages to take a trick gets a share of the pot. The next pot is set by all those who didn't take any. That's all there is to it! So… are you in?"

Tricks, trumps, bolts that weren't bolts but favors… Maka's head was spinning. "Yes." It sounded more like a question than anything, prompting grins and snorts from the circle.

"You learn best by playing," Soul said, tapping the table idly. "Deal her in."

Kim did so, and for the next hour, Maka learned quite a lot - though very little of it had to do with the game itself. She was more focused on the people holding the cards.

Tsubaki was only slightly better at the game than Maka herself, though seeing as how Maka was an abysmal card player, that wasn't saying much. She didn't seem to mind, however, and played with a smile on her face. Despite her mediocre performance, however, she always managed to keep a small pile of bolts, and so was just able to float by.

Black*Star, no matter how much he bragged, was average at best. He had a tendency to overestimate his hand, and more often than not was adding to the pot than taking. On the rounds that he did manage to take a trick, that was all he would talk about for the next three hands.

Kim and Ox were middling players, though for different reasons. Kim leaned toward the reckless while Ox tended to be cautious. Both maintained a respectable pile of bolts between them.

Soul and Kilik were quite proficient, and took tricks more often than not. They seemed to be in competition with each other more than anyone else, though Soul and Black*Star traded more good-natured jabs. Maka watched her partner closely as he examined his cards. As much as he tried to hide it, he enjoyed being here, she thought. Maka didn't know much about Soul, but she was starting to think that maybe she wasn't the only one here who didn't.

It was Jackie and Harvar, though, who dominated the game. Maka wasn't sure what it was, but the two had an uncanny ability to read the others and assess their own chances for the round. Their piles were sizeable, and always seemed to grow - at the expense of Maka's.

Black*Star snorted as Maka dropped her last three bolts into the pot. "What happens now?" she asked. She had a feeling that she wouldn't like the answer.

"Time to see what fresh blood's made of, that's what," Black*Star said, a manic gleam in his eye.

"Now you've got to pay up," Soul said, an amused look on his face. "Harvar gets the honor, I think. He's got the most."

All heads swiveled towards the stoic racer as he watched Maka. He rolled a few bolts in his hand, then dropped them to the table with a quiet _plink-plink-plink_. "Inventory."

Maka received a mix of knowing smirks and sympathetic looks as Black*Star cackled. "Inventory?" she repeated, a knot of dread growing in her stomach. Whatever that was, it couldn't be good.

"Harvar's on the roster for inventory this month," Kilik explained. "He's cashing in to give the job to you."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Maka said tentatively, hoping that her gut would be proven wrong.

Soul smirked. "I'll show her then, shall I?"

Catcalls followed them out of the room and into the dim hallway, where Soul turned left and started towards Stein's office. He passed the doctor's workshop and stopped one door down. He rattled the knob and grunted as he shouldered it open; the door groaned and whined in protest but gave under his weight, releasing a cloud of dust.

Maka coughed and waved a hand in front of her face as Soul stepped back. He motioned her forward, barely able to contain his smile. "This is inventory."

Maka stared hopelessly at the mess inside. Haphazard rows of shelves covered in books, crates, and jars of unknown substances populated the room. There was no order to the chaos, and Maka supposed that was why it was called inventory.

"It doesn't look like anything's been organized!" she pointed out in despair.

"You think this is the only stockroom we have?"

"You mean there are others like this?"

Soul grinned. "Welcome to Spartoi. Now come on, the race is about to start. You'll begin tomorrow."

Maka took one last look at the room she would be exiled to for the next day and sighed. She knew integrating herself into the group would be difficult, but she'd still been hoping for something better than this. Still, if that was what it took…

"Alright then," she said, a new resolve in her voice. Soul raised an eyebrow and seemed to appraise her again as she passed him. "I'll say it again," she warned as he closed the door behind them, "I'll not be scared off that easily."

"Wouldn't be fun if you were," he said, his sharp-toothed smile stretched wide.

Maka harrumphed and ignored his snicker; she'd organize the whole damned warehouse if that was what it took!

She began to regret that thought the very next day as she was elbows-deep in moldy cardboard boxes and jugs that made strange squelching sounds when they were jostled. Honestly, why anyone would want to keep this junk was beyond her. A pair of spectacles and a burning cigarette popped into her mind and some of the confusion cleared, though the caution did not. For as little as she knew the doctor, she wouldn't put it past him to store dangerous materials in the stockroom on a whim.

She heaved a large bin off the shelf with a grunt and dropped in to the ground with a _thud_. Clouds of dust swirled around Maka's feet as she bent down to open it, leaning away slightly as the flaps fell open. To her surprise - and delight - the box was not filled with jars of questionable content, but rather with old, musty books. Maka reached in with a smile, plucking the first off the stack with ease. The spine cracked in the way that well-worn books did, and though the pages were yellowed and the text was faded, Maka had no trouble taking in the contents.

_It has long since been argued within the scientific community that automatons are, inherently, machines created by man and as such, are dictated by the whims of its creator. But was not humankind created in much the same way, and have we not evolved throughout the millennia? What, then, prevents automatons from doing the same? Their actions are the results of simple programming; why, then, can we not program such actions as learning and creativity? It is my hope and dream that we might one day achieve such accomplishments, that we might one day strive as far as to gift these machines with consciousness, and even, if technology and ethics might allow it… a soul to call their own. _

Maka flipped the cover closed again and brushed the cobwebs and dust away to reveal the title: _Automaton Theory: The Principle of Humanity as Applied to Machine_, by Eibon. Intrigued, Maka cracked open the book again and slowly sank down to rest against the shelves, her eyes scanning the pages at dizzying speeds. Chapter after chapter passed in a blur as Maka found herself more drawn into the theories proposed.

"Maka? Hello?" Maka was so absorbed in her book that the voice barely registered. It was only when a foot nudged her that she looked up, head foggy and mind disoriented by the sudden shift.

"There you are," Soul said irritably. "You've been in here for four hours." He looked around, brow furrowed. "And done nothing, apparently."

Maka stared at him, uncomprehendingly. When his words finally sunk in, she jumped and the book slipped out of her hands with a _fwump_. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

"What are you reading?" Soul interrupted, bending down to pick the tome up. He read the title and his brows shot up. "Some light reading, I see," he quipped.

"It's fascinating!" Maka said, pushing herself up and dusting herself off. "I've never heard of the author before, but he's working with automatons and programming to determine if machines are capable of human thought. I don't understand most of the technical terms, but the theory behind it is absolutely brilliant-"

Soul stared at her as she spoke until something seemed to shift in him; suddenly he was laughing loudly, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking.

Maka went quiet - she'd never such an open a display of emotion from him before, and a part of her wondered if he was losing his mind. He straightened up as his laughter died down, and Maka was met with a pair of sparkling ruby eyes. "Come on," he said, setting the book aside and taking her arm, "the others are waiting." As they left the stockroom behind, it suddenly dawned on Maka that she might have passed some sort of test - Soul had never once shown such openness towards her, and though she wasn't sure what she'd done to earn it, she certainly wasn't going to question it.

The others took their lead from Soul, and those who had been distant began to warm to her. Ox still remained as hostile as ever, but really, Maka hadn't been expecting that to change anytime soon. Finally, Maka was starting to become one of them - one of Spartoi - and she couldn't have been happier.

Of course, it would prove to be too good to last.

* * *

><p>She shouldn't have forgotten about the rogue racers.<p>

It wasn't as though she had forgotten them completely, only that she hadn't realized that they posed a very real threat to her if she were ever targeted. The problem was she never had been, and although reports came in of other racers harassed through the events, Maka was blissfully entrenched in the belief that they would never go after her.

Until one night, they did.

There was nothing to suggest that the night's race would be any different. It had even started like any other race had, with Maka and the rest of Spartoi caught up in a friendly competition for places. The rogues never even crossed Maka's mind, so fixed was she on finally stealing first away from her partner. She was close, too - they had long since left the others behind, their only companion the empty road. The wind prevented them from exchanging their usual friendly barbs, and so they settled for smirks and loaded glances.

Just before they entered the tunnel on Seven Sister's Road, a pair of glowing headlights cut through the space between them like a knife. Both swerved to avoid a collision, and the owner of the headlights nestled between them as though he belonged there.

Maka risked a glance to the racer's axel. As she suspected, his alias was scratched out. A rogue was right beside her, and it dawned on her then that he wouldn't be easy to escape.

She caught a glimpse of Soul on the other side, cycle darting this way and that as he tried to find a way in to get Maka out. But the rogue was careful and very determined, pressing Maka closer and closer to the tunnel wall with every second that passed. If she didn't find a way out soon, she would end up as nothing more than a smear across the brick.

Sound faded as the frantic rhythm of her heart pulsed in her ears. Her body felt hot, her hands and forehead slick with sweat. Desperate gasps for air clawed at her throat, the oxygen making her head swim.

_Focus. Panic does no good. _A rock-steady voice echoed loudly in her mind, shutting down all her fear and irrational thought. Everything around her seemed to sharpen into blazing clarity, and Maka's eyes narrowed in determined. _Not me. Not tonight_.

Her thigh squeezed against the side of her axel, propelling her forward, but the rogue matched her speed easily. Startled, Maka tried the reverse, but the rogue didn't seem to care about position, only trapping Maka.

On a whim, she veered slightly towards the racer using what little room she had, but he didn't move. His safety also didn't seem to be a concern, something that baffled her. The fear tried to creep back, but Maka lashed out at it with white-hot anger. _This will not be my legacy_, she growled. _Not when I have a team counting on me._

The rogue closed in on her with a jerking motion, sending Maka's heart leaping for her throat and her stomach plunging somewhere around her knees. The dam broke, and toxic fear spiked through her veins before Maka could rein it in.

_No no no no NO! _Maka's belly burned hot, and it felt like fire racing through her insides and lacing her veins with lightning. Her skin crawled, her muscles tightening in anticipation. Maka was fraught with the need to act, to do _something_. She needed to get away, needed the rogue _gone_…

Something in Maka's brain clicked and heat enveloped her, swallowing her whole. She turned her head to look at the rogue and saw a sickly red orb hovering in his chest. A small voice in the back of her head snorted. _What good does not do me now?_ it asked. _I _know _he's dangerous, but I need him to get _away…

There was a roaring sound louder than anything Maka had ever heard before, and her ribs seemed to heave violently under her skin. The air around her crackled and smelled of lightning, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her body trembled, filled to the brim with something she couldn't identify, something that wanted _out_. With a great cry she released it, and a burst of energy leaped through the air, striking the rogue right in the chest.

Maka heaved a massive breath as the rogue flew back, his axel toppling to the side as its rider became airborne. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, and despite the air rushing past her ears, the world around her had never been so quiet.

Soul swooped in next to her, eyes meeting hers in a wide-eyed stare. Maka could only shake her head at the question in them, but she didn't break the contact. She drew strength from him, and she didn't know whether he could sense it or not, but he remained by her side until the finish.

They skidded to a stop near the sidewalk, and Soul dismounted faster than she'd ever seen. In an instant he was by her side, eyes probing her carefully. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, though her wavering voice didn't inspire any confidence. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Soul said sharply. "Anyone who can do...that…" - he gestured to her midsection - "is the furthest thing from fine."

"I'm not a sideshow freak," Maka whispered, eyes prickling as her voice caught.

His expression seemed to soften. "That isn't what I meant. Just… what in the blazes was that?"

"I don't know," she said, wringing her hands. "I just wanted him away, and then there was this heat, here," - she tapped her chest - "and suddenly there was this energy and he…" She trailed off. "I don't know what I did," she repeated, eyes wide and voice hoarse. "I never know what is going on and I want it all to stop."

Soul latched onto her words. "But you know _something_."

Maka had been lying for so long it was second nature. "No-" She stopped herself. Soul had seen what had happened plain as day, what good would it do trying to cover it up? "I mean, yes. I know something. But not about…" She gestured vaguely to her torso.

"Tell me."

"It's a long story," she warned. "And I don't think you'd know what to do any more than I do."

"Stein," Soul said instantly. "I don't like him, but he'll know the answer."

"If you say so," she whispered. The prospect of spilling her secret left her both apprehensive and relieved, and as they both moved their axels to return to the warehouse, Maka wondered which feeling would win out in the end.

They made it to the warehouse in record time, slipping underneath the garage door before it was fully raised. Thankfully, the Thompsons were absorbed in whichever project had their attention, and so there were no unwanted questions as they crossed the common room to the back hallway.

Stein looked up as they burst in, face placid and unsurprised. "It's about time," he said, adjusting his screw. "Shut the door, would you?"

"No, doc, you don't understand-"

"I understand more than you could ever hope to," Stein replied. "Now, the _door_, Eater."

Soul obeyed, though he didn't look at all happy about it.

"You were expecting us?" Maka asked, shaken and confused.

"In a way," Stein answered cryptically. "I've been expecting this ever since you joined us. I knew the instant I saw you that we would be having this conversation sooner or later."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Maka asked. "How could you - it's not possible-"

As she spoke, Stein's gaze drifted from her face to her chest. Maka's skin prickled under her scrutiny and she broke off to say heatedly, "I don't know who you think you are, Stein, but unless you can offer answers, I've no use for you! So if you'd please stop staring at me-"

"Calm down, Maka," he said suddenly, cutting her off. "I'm merely looking at your soul."

"He's not _my_ Soul-"

"I'm not _hers_-"

"Oh, be quiet, the both of you. I wasn't talking of Eater. I mean intangible souls - the spirit, if you will. If I'm correct - and I usually am - you've been able to see them for quite some time, haven't you Maka?"

Maka felt as though all the air had been pulled from her lungs in one great rush. Her knees went weak and she faltered; Soul was by her elbow in an instant to steady her. "You don't mean… the blue orbs? You can see them too?"

"Yes, although yours is unlike any you've ever seen, I'll warrant."

"Alright, what the _hell_ is going on?" Soul cut in, looking bemused. "What are you two talking about?"

"Have either of you heard of a substance called 'aether'?"

"No."

"Yes."

Their answers were simultaneous. Soul gave Maka a funny look, though she ignored him. "I read it in one of your books," Maka told Stein by way of explanation. "In _Automaton Theory_, I believe. The author only mentioned it once, and I didn't quite understand all of it, but from what I could, it's some sort of mythical life force, isn't it?"

"That's correct," Stein said. He looked slightly surprised at Maka's answer. "Aether is only recognized by a select few within the scientific community, but those that do classify it as the substance that makes up what we term the human soul. Simply put, aether is energy in its purest form."

"As fascinating as this is, what does it have to do with me?"

"Everything," Stein said simply. "You see, aether is all around us, but it is invisible and intangible - something to be discussed, but never measured. For a select few, however, this energy can be observed by the naked eye."

The pieces began to click in Maka's mind. "The blue orbs."

Stein nodded. "Precisely."

"I am one of those select few?"

"Yes… and no."

"You love being cryptic, don't you?" Soul looked equal parts baffled and resigned, as though he had given up common sense to let himself be led by the strange conversation.

"A byproduct of constant interruption, I'm afraid," Stein said dryly.

"Let the man speak, Soul," Maka scolded, eyebrows drawn in irritation.

"What - I was just - have you been _listening_…" He trailed off with a ineloquent whine as he tugged at his hair. "If I hadn't seen it for myself I'd think the both of you insane," he mumbled. "But please, by all means, do go on."

"How kind of you," Stein said in a deadpan. "As I was saying, Maka, you are among these select few, and yet you are not. Within the minority who can perceive this aether, there are still fewer who can not only observe it, but manipulate it as well. Those that can do this are said to possess Grigori souls, and that, Maka, is what you have. I recognized it the moment I saw you, and that is why I've been expecting you."

"It is," Maka said softly, he had drifting up to flutter over her chest. "I never realized what was going on, but after what happened tonight…"

"What _did_ take place?" Stein asked, hand lazily cranking his screw. "I've not yet encountered someone with your talents, and I'd be quite curious to hear of the experience."

Maka took a deep breath and looked to Soul. He nodded, and with a steadying exhale, she began. "We were tied to first before entering the tunnel. A rogue racer came up behind us and split us up, trapping me by the wall."

"I did try to get her out," Soul cut in, "and I hate to admit this, but the bastard's good."

"I panicked," Maka continued. "He was so close, and he kept moving closer - all I could think of was what might happen if I could not get away. Then I felt this burning in my chest, as though I were on fire, and then this… burst of energy leapt from me to him."

"That would be the aether," Stein confirmed. "It seems to me that thus far, your abilities are only utilized in self-defense. Can the same be said for your soul perception?"

Maka frowned. "I don't believe so. I did catch a glimpse of the rogue's soul before I knocked him away, however. It was a repulsive red color instead of the blue I usually see. I've noticed this difference before in other orbs - souls, I mean - but I've never known what it represented."

"Souls often appear as blue or red, depending on its alignment - whether the soul leans towards the darkness or the light. Evil souls burn red, while good souls burn blue. Grigori souls - your soul," he said, nodding to Maka, "burns green. It is quite a wonder to behold."

"A Grigori soul," Maka murmured. The name felt right on her tongue, and something inside her seemed to settle into place. This was the answer she'd been wanting for over a year, and now that it was in her grasp, Maka felt like she could breathe for the first time in an age. "I have a Grigori soul," she repeated, her voice stronger as the last vestiges of fear and uncertainty drained from her veins.

"That you do," Stein confirmed. "You have within your power to see someone's very soul. More than that, you could pluck it from their body should you so desire."

"I could… what?" Maka's newfound strength dimmed and she felt her knees go weak.

"I told you that your gifts included aether manipulation. Souls are made of aether. It is only logical that you should be able to control souls."

"There's no need to sound so clinical about it," Soul snapped. He shot Stein a dark look. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if you'd done it before."

Stein chuckled. "Oh, I don't posses a Grigori soul. My ability extends only so far as soul perception, but goes no further. Maka is a rare and dangerous find, one that many desperate people with quite a lot of resources who would pay handsomely for. In fact, that may very well be why you were targeted."

"You believe this racer was after me for my soul?" Maka shoved the disturbing thoughts Stein had aired to the back of her mind and attempted to refocus on the conversation.

"Why go after the others, then?" Soul asked. "Seems like a waste to me, if it's her they're after."

Stein was quiet for a very long time. The only sound in the workshop was the eerie clicking of his screw as he thought. Maka was just beginning to fidget when he finally spoke. "After the first attacks, Lord Death received word from his contacts that there was something more afoot than simply violence for its own sake. Now I wonder if perhaps it was to look for you."

"Me? But Soul's right, why the others? Why not come after me in the beginning?"

"As I said, those with simple soul perception are rare as well. These people after you would most likely not have such a person at their disposal, and so they were forced to become creative. I believe that they are working under the theory that when provoked, any Grigori soul will use their abilities as a last resort to protect themselves. They've been attacking those at random, on and off the circuit, hoping to find someone with the ability to control aether. It seems that they succeeded tonight."

"What does this mean for us then?" Soul asked.

Maka shot Soul a sideways glance. His use of the plural surprised her, but from the look in his eyes, it was clear that he was taking his pledge of partnership to heart.

"That I can't be sure about," Stein admitted. "It would all depend on whether the rogue clearly witnessed what happened and could carry the information back to his superiors."

Maka and Soul looked to each other, both reliving the sickening _crunch_ of the rogue's head meeting the road. "The fall was not a soft one," Maka said softly, breaking the silence.

Soul nodded. "His head hit the road directly; I doubt he'll be remembering his own name anytime soon, much less speaking coherently."

"Then you believe Maka's abilities are still a secret?" Stein asked.

"I do," Soul said firmly, but he was looking to Maka. "But they aren't my abilities."

"I agree with Soul. It was dark, he struck his head, and there was no one else on that road. I don't think anyone could have clearly seen what happened."

"That is fortunate," Stein said, "though it would be more beneficial if we had more proof. However, we can operate under this assumption in the meantime."

"What do we do now?" Soul asked.

"You do nothing," Stein said flatly. "I will speak with Lord Death and see what he has to say, and Maka here will start learning to better control her abilities."

Maka started. "I will?"

"Your power, while impressive, remains an untapped reservoir. Should you face an enemy wishing you harm, it would be beneficial if you were able to better control your abilities. Therefore you will spend whatever afternoons you have available in here, with me, in order to prepare yourself."

"How am I to explain this to the others?" Spartoi was not a dull lot; someone would notice Maka's unusual disappearances and inquire after them.

Stein waved a hand in a shooing motion. "I believe that's your concern, not mine." Maka frowned, but Stein's dismissal was clear. She and Soul left his office behind and started down the hall, Maka's mind racing all the while.

"I don't like it either," Soul said, catching the disgruntled look on her face. walking her back to the common room. "But it makes sense. Better to head the problem off than to try and explain _that_" - he gestured towards her vaguely - "to everyone."

"I know," she sighed. "I don't know what I'll tell them, though."

Soul snorted. "Anything. They won't question it much; everyone likes their privacy." Maka remained a little doubtful, but accepted his reasoning.

The common room was full by the time they returned, their teammates looking more subdued than usual. "What happened?" Kilik asked. "You both took off like bats out of hell before anyone could catch up."

"Did something happen?" Tsubaki cut in, eyebrows drawn together in anxiety.

"Yes," Soul said, stepping in swiftly. "Maka was targeted tonight. We just went to see Stein to make sure she was alright."

"And that was a two person trip?" Kilik asked mildly.

"Maka's my partner, of course I went with her."

"All I'm saying is I don't think Harvar tags along when Ox goes in to the doctor."

Soul's face flushed pink and he opened his mouth to retort, but Tsubaki cut him off. "Maka, are you hurt?"

Maka shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Soul just wanted to be sure." She must have still looked shaken up because Tsubaki came to her side and rubbed her arms comfortingly. "Thank you," she said quietly.

The evening proceeded normally after that, but as the others talked and joked, Maka shared a quick look at Soul. Their eyes met, and something passed between them - a mutual agreement of sorts. Maka's secret settled across both their shoulders, and for the first time in her life, Maka felt like she could breathe just a little easier.

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

three-card loo: a popular, disreputable card game used for gambling


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Maka rose the next morning, her stomach twisting in both anxiety and excitement. For so long she had wondered about her newly-termed 'soul perception', but never before had she considered expanding the breadth of the ability. What would it be like? The possibilities swam through her head as she dressed, her movements dreamy and slow as her imagination ran wild. As she sat at her vanity to tie her hair back into simple plaits, she stared into those vivid green eyes her mother had gifted her, and wondered if they would look the same in a week's time. She sensed that she was standing on the edge of some unknown precipice, and while she did in some small way fear the uncertainty of it, she could not deny the thrill she felt at the prospect of the journey downwards.

Her door slammed open suddenly, wrenching her from her thoughts with a start. She turned to find her father standing in the threshold, dressed in his finest and looking surprisingly alert given the time. "Maka, there you are, I was wondering what was keeping you-" He stopped suddenly as he took in her attire. "Surely you don't mean to wear that?"

Maka turned in her seat and gave him a strange look. "What difference does it make how I dress? I'm going out today."

Her father stared at her, looking positively flummoxed. "Don't you remember, sweet? You're receiving a guest this morning. I told Charlotte to remind you…"

Dread curdled Maka's stomach. "No, Papa, I'm going out today, I cannot-"

"Maka, darling, you can't. He's already here, in the parlor. Now please, make yourself presentable and at least try to keep an open mind."

"A suitor?" Maka's hands clutched the edge of her vanity. "Today? No, I will not see him, I'm going _out_. Why did you not tell me this earlier?"

"I sent one of the maids to prepare you-"

"You know the only maid who likes me is Blair," Maka said coldly. "The rest are only here for you."

Her father flinched at the accusation. "I am sorry you didn't hear of this sooner, but Maka, dear, he's in the _parlor_."

"I heard you the first time. Let him know I'll be there in a moment."

"But Maka, your dress-"

"-should not matter to him if he has any genuine interest in me," Maka finished for him. "And if it does, well then, I'll have made your job easier, won't I?"

Her papa spluttered for a moment before collecting himself and hastily exiting. As his thumping footsteps faded on the stairs, she sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She rubbed her temples to ward off the ache gathering there, resigning herself to a morning filled with stilted conversation and uncomfortable tension. Hopefully she could dissuade this suitor of his notions regarding her desirability before too much time had passed. She was much too anxious to flex her newfound muscles to wait an entire day.

"Miss Maka?" Blair's musical voice came from the doorway. "You should not keep him waiting much longer."

"If I never come downstairs he's bound to leave sooner or later," Maka said darkly, lifting her head from her hands.

"Miss Maka," Blair chided. "This man may be the one to make Miss Maka happy, yes? To chase away the loneliness?"

"I am not lonely," Maka insisted, sitting up straight and checking her reflection in the mirror, if only to avoid Blair's gaze. "I have friends now, friends who care about me aside from my title." She ignored the pang in her chest and the little voice that reminded her that the only cared because _they didn't know_.

Blair waved her hand. "Not that kind of loneliness. Blair means the loneliness that a husband chases away." When Maka scoffed, she winked and added, "At least keep an open mind. He is not bad-looking at all." She giggled to punctuate her statement.

"A pretty face says nothing about what hides behind it," Maka said wryly. "_That_ is what I am concerned with."

Blair shrugged. "It is Miss Maka's life to do with as she pleases. Though Blair does not think she will be doing much pleasing in a dress as plain as that."

Maka stood up and brushed her skirts out, checking the plain, cream-yellow fabric for creases. "You think so?"

Blair nodded, and Maka's lips curled into a devilish smile. "Good."

Blair couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to smirk approvingly or look exasperated, yet managed to do a combination of the two as Maka passed her on her way downstairs.

Blair had been right; her suitor was certainly handsome enough. However, his crystal blue eyes and soft straw-blond hair could not make up for his pretentious attitude and horribly ill-formed opinions.

"...well, of course Guinevere is to blame for King Arthur's downfall. Her betrayal led him to ruin, so much so that not even the mighty power of Excalibur could save him! Though I do not expect a woman such as yourself to be as well-versed on the subject matter as I am. I find that most within your gender tend to romanticize the tale, when the truth is that the themes run much deeper and more complex..."

Maka grit her teeth and glared toward the corner, where her maid-turned-chaperone had been studiously avoiding her gaze for the past hour. She could catch the hint of a smirk when Blair turned her head, however, and that alone somehow managed to keep her from throttling the pompous ass across from her. As it was, the china cup in her hand was in grave danger, so she set it down on the table before her and smoothed her hands across her lap to compose herself. "Surely you exaggerate… Hiro, was it?" As restrained as her voice was, she could not resist knocking him down a peg. "Guinevere was merely exercising her right to choose the man she truly loved. How can she be to blame for that?"

Hiro, the son of the Viscount of some-estate-or-another, sniffed imperiously and set down his own cup. He was most likely under the impression that he was about to teach her something about Arthurian literature, as though Maka hadn't already consumed all the books on the subject. Condescending cod. "As queen to Arthur's king, Guinevere had a duty to her people and to her husband. Turning her back on that for something as paltry as love was a betrayal, yes."

A muscle twitched in Maka's jaw and she stood up suddenly, the tea table jerking with her sudden movement. "I apologize," she said stiffly. "But I feel a headache coming on and must take my leave. _Such_ a pleasure to meet you, Hiro."

Maka didn't think she had ever managed to stuff as much sarcasm into one sentence before, though Hiro somehow managed to miss every last drop. She ignored his empty pleasantries and barely kept herself from storming out, Blair following close behind.

"Blair thought Miss Maka was going to stab him with a spoon," she pouted. "That would have been great fun to watch."

"Yes, I realize that must have been tremendously tedious for you," Maka deadpanned.

Blair rolled her eyes. "It would not hurt Miss Maka to keep an open mind. Especially considering Lord Albarn has another suitor scheduled in three days."

"He's done _what?_ Why on _earth_ would he think-" Maka broke off and rubbed at her forehead. With her luck, she really would come down with a headache. "I should have taken him more seriously when he said he would try to find me a husband. I did not think he would manage to put aside his hatred for young men who would take me away long enough to allow them in the door."

"What is Miss Maka going to do?"

"Wait him out," Maka answered, checking the time as she reentered her room. Her meeting with Hiro, while it had felt eternal, had not lasted that long, leaving her plenty of time to visit the warehouse and try her luck with controlling her gifts. Quickly she took a seat at her vanity and busied herself with retying her plaits in preparation for her imminent departure. "He cannot keep this up forever and believe me, I am much more stubborn than he."

"Blair does not think Miss Maka can keep marriage away forever," Blair said softly, meeting Maka's gaze in the vanity mirror.

Maka's answer was determined. "I can try."

* * *

><p>"Ready to - whoa, who put a bee in your bonnet?"<p>

"Don't ask," Maka growled, pushing Soul aside as she stalked into the common room.

Tsubaki looked up as she entered, her cheerful smile dimming as she took in the stormy look on her face. "Is something the matter?" she asked, setting aside the ripped shawl in her lap.

Maka shook her head and forced a small smile on her face. "Nothing of great importance. My father is simply trying to marry me off and I was fortunate enough to meet with one of the prospects this morning."

"Is he still alive?" Soul asked skeptically.

"Yes, though it was a very close call near the end."

Soul chuckled suddenly and shook his head. "Poor sod. Trapped in a room with you and that glare all morning."

Maka gifted him with that very glare, though he didn't seem at all perturbed. "As entertaining as this is, you're late," he reminded her, nodding towards the back hall. "Stein's been expecting you."

Maka scoffed. "I doubt that." To Tsubaki, who still looked vaguely concerned, she said, "I promise I'm alright, really. I'll tell you all about it later."

Tsubaki nodded, and Maka gave her a second, more genuine smile. The prospect of having a friend to share her frustrations with was relatively new to her, as she had never been able to connect with the girls of her own social class. But now she had a chance at friendships based on more than who her father was, or how much wealth her family held. A warm tingling invaded her chest at the thought.

The feeling lasted just until she set foot inside Stein's workshop, where unseen things clicked and squeaked, hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering gas lamps on the walls. An automaton arm spilled its mechanical innards across the main worktable, where Stein was hunched over, his slender fingers a blur as he tinkered with his latest project. Maka stood just inside the doorway for a few moments, waiting for Stein to notice her, but his full attention was on the machine before him. Finally she closed the door with a loud snap and cleared her throat.

A few moments later he looked up, blinking passively behind his spectacles. "You're here," he said blandly.

"I am."

"Well, get to it then."

It was Maka's turn to blink. "Excuse me?"

"You are here to exercise control over your abilities, yes?" He waved a hand towards a chair piled with papers in one corner of the room. "Feel free to begin at any time."

"But - I was under the impression you were to show me how."

Stein shook his head. "Impossible. I am not a Grigori soul myself; how can I show you how to utilize one? My soul perception may manifest itself in a way different from yours as well, so there is no guarantee that I may show you how to control it."

Maka ground her teeth. "You might have told me that."

"I just did."

"You are determined to be thoroughly unhelpful, aren't you?"

Stein shrugged, his attention already diverted to the table in front of him. "I cannot take the journey for you. This ability is something you must master on your own. Surely you realized that."

Maka bristled. "Of course I did! I had just hoped for a place to start, that is all."

"Life is not always that kind, Maka," Stein reminded her absently. "You would do well to keep that in mind." With that he turned and left her to her own devices as he continued fiddling with the arm. Maka stared at him for a few moments, hoping against hope that he might change his mind and give her at least some sort of direction, but he seemed set in his belief that she find her own way.

With a sigh, she turned away and approached the chair he had gestured to, sweeping off the piles of paper and setting herself down once she had determined that it would not give way beneath her. After she had arranged her skirt and fidgeted just enough to be comfortable, she puffed out her cheeks and looked around the room, disgruntled. This was certainly not how she pictured her first lesson going. In fact, it could hardly be considered a lesson at all, could it?

But for all her griping, she could not fault Stein for his decision. This was, after all, something she had to do on her own. That did not make figuring out her first step any easier, however.

She almost felt sheepish - an entire year of soul perception and not once had she ever explored its possibilities. Granted, half the time she'd believed them to be hallucinations, so why she have looked into it? _Still_, she told herself, _perhaps you should have tried._

Well, she was trying now. After a long, steady inhale, she closed her eyes, focus turned inward as she began searching for whatever it was that made her special.

Slowly she lost awareness of the crisp, cold air around her, of the medicinal smell that pervaded Stein's workshop. Her lungs expanded and contracted, her breath moving with a regularity that centered her. Just as the thought popped into her head, a screeching squeak cut through the air, causing her to wince and lose her focus.

She cracked an eye open to see Stein bent over his work, oblivious to any sound or disturbances his tools were causing. With a strained sigh, she closed her eyes again and focused once more on her breathing.

A few stray thoughts tried their best to worm their way into her mind, but she shoved them out unceremoniously. Nothing would disturb her or break her concentration, not again. Maka Albarn was a force to be reckoned with, even against herself, and today she was going to prove that.

Gradually she found herself falling into some kind of trance, though the realization did not frighten her as it should have. She felt peaceful almost, despite the morning she had endured. Hiro's face popped into her mind before she could stop him, and it was with no small amount of effort that she forced him out. The man had quite an influence, she had to grant him that - even now he was bothering her, and all he'd done was talk at her for an hour.

_Do not think of that_, she chastised herself. _Do not let him in_.

Of course, that feat was easier said than done. Eventually, Maka did manage to clear her mind again, but found that the path was no clearer to her than the first time. What was she to do? How was she to explore her own abilities when she was not even sure how to find them?

_Where are you?_ she called out desperately. She wasn't even sure what she was calling out to, or looking for, but she threw her reach far and wide in an attempt to find it. _Answer me!_

To her complete surprise, something did. It was small and it was faint, but something answered her call - a tiny, flickering warmth she could not name. She seized upon it gently lest it fly away and drew it closer, stoking the fire with gentle words and a stroking touch. The warmth was familiar and well-worn, like the pages of her favorite books, like the scent of her mother's perfume. It filled her limbs with a numbing tingle, and a great rushing sound filled her ears. Something light settled softly over her, and she opened her eyes.

The workroom looked as it always had, but bright, slowly pulsing light drew her attention to Stein's hunched silhouette. Everything else had faded to dull monochromes and washed-out tones, but the orb floating within Stein's chest was a vibrant, shining blue-green she had never seen before.

_It must be because he has soul perception_, she thought. _He isn't a Grigori soul, but his soul is not normal, either. He's in between._

Squinting her eyes and clutching the warmth closer to her, she tilted her head to try and see it clearer. His soul faded out for a moment, edges blurring indistinctly as she tried to get a fix on them, then burst into blazing clarity.

Stein's soul was sharp and cold, pulsing with more power than other souls she had seen. Parts of it seemed stitched together, though she wondered how much of it was the soul and how much simply a reflection of the mad doctor himself. Despite her wary view of the man, however, his soul looked untainted, and it was with great triumph that Maka closed her eyes and began to pull away.

She'd found it, this soul perception of hers, she'd found it and had called it on her own. Carefully she made note of the warmth inside her, like she would dog-ear a page in her favorite novel so that she might find it again. Her work was far from done, she knew, but she could not help the wide smile as she came to herself and opened her eyes once more.

"I see you have made some progress," Stein said without looking at her.

"Yes," Maka said happily.

"Soul perception is only one small part of what you can do, however," he continued. "You have merely taken one small step on your journey."

"I realize that," she replied, sounding a little petulant. Surely he could recognize the breakthrough she had made!

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Maka made a face at Stein's back, though she had the sinking suspicion that he could see her anyway. Well, he couldn't take from her satisfaction, even though she knew he was right.

A hunger came over her then - what else could she do, what else might she find locked within her? Eagerly she dove back in, eyes shut and breathing steady, searching for something different within her.

She called out once more, voice loud and clear, shouting to whatever might answer her. The familiar warmth she'd just encountered called back to her, but she filed it away as she scanned for something different, something she had not felt previously.

Curiously, a new answer came from outside of herself, and this time it was much stronger than the voice within her. Clear as a bell it responded, though Maka could tell it was something more closed off than her soul perception. She took a deep breath and reached out, tentatively opening her eyes as she did so.

The air looked different as it swirled around her, as though the dust motes had very faintly come to life. She took them in with wonder, mind racing. Was this the aether Stein had talked of, that energy that resided deep in her soul? Her fingers twitched and she extended her hand gently, watching with fascination as the aether particles darted away. If she concentrated enough, could she touch them?

Maka called out again, beckoning the energy to her gently, frowning slightly as it denied her. _No, come closer_, she whispered. _Just a little bit..._

The aether skittered away, Maka's brow furrowing as she focused harder. She reached out to grasp at the response, holding onto it fiercely even as it struggled to get away. The particles were so close, almost in her grasp...

_Almost there..._

_Zzzzzttttt_.

Maka screeched in pain and recoiled, her fingertips singed a bright red. The aether buzzed angrily at her seconds before they snuffed out, her perception winking away. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them to numb the throbbing pain, her blood pulsing electric in her veins. It felt as though she had been struck by a very small - yet very powerful - bolt of lightning.

"Now what was that?" Stein asked, finally tearing himself away from his work to look at her bemusedly.

Before she could respond, the door to the workshop burst open and a very harried-looking Soul appeared in the doorway. "What," he demanded, "in the hell was that?"

Maka pulled her fingers from her mouth and examined them briefly. "Just a shock I think, but how did you-" She looked up at him suddenly, eyes narrowed. "Were you waiting outside the door?"

But Soul had, strangely, burst out laughing the moment he laid eyes on her and could barely stand upright. Maka huffed at him, affronted, but as soon as he straightened up and met her gaze, he collapsed into chuckles again.

"What is so funny?" she edged out through gritted teeth, but Soul could not answer.

Wordlessly, Stein shuffled through the clutter on his table and crossed the room to hand her a small, cracked mirror. Her reflection was split into several frames, but she could see well enough… and it wasn't flattering.

Clumps of hair had escaped her plaits and was sticking up every which way, some strands floating straight up in the air all around her. Frantically she tried pushing it down, but it crackled and popped and refused to be tamed.

"Stop laughing!" she squawked, hand smoothing over her scalp and combing out her hair. "_Soul!_"

"Interesting," Stein said slowly, having returned to his table. He picked up a pen and a leather-bound book sitting next to him, then began to scribble something inside.

"Don't you _dare_ write this down!" she growled, dropping the mirror as both hands worked to cover her head. "Stein, do not even _think_ about - Soul, would you _stop laughing!_"

"Can't," he wheezed out. "Your face. Your _hair_."

Maka shrieked at him as her hand scrabbled for something to throw; her fingers met soft leather as she landed upon a thick book by her chair. She heaved the tome up easily and sent it sailing through the air - Soul barely had time to widen his eyes before the spine met his face. Colorful swear words echoed in the room as he stumbled back, hands clutching at his nose.

Maka ripped the ties from her hair and pulled her fingers through viciously, wincing as they caught in the tangles. With Soul preoccupied with his throbbing nose, she was free to work unencumbered. The static slowly began to dissipate the longer she worked through the kinks in her hair, and gradually it became manageable again.

"That," Soul said, scowling, still rubbing his face, "was entirely unnecessary."

"No," Maka replied, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "it was not."

"What in the hell is that book made of?" he asked, glaring balefully at the novel by his feet. He nudged it none-too-gently with his foot.

"Don't do that," Maka scolded him, swooping down to scoop the book up. She dusted off the cover and tucked in underneath her arm, and though she did not know the title or even the subject, she felt strangely attached to it.

"Are you afraid I might dent it with my face?" Soul snapped.

"You would not stop laughing," Maka said defensively.

"Of course not, did you see yourself? What even happened anyway?"

Maka perked up. With all the commotion, she had nearly forgotten what had caused the shock in the first place. "I did it! I touched the aether! Well… in a way."

"I would say you were not terribly successful," Stein said dryly, still writing notes in his book. "Describe what happened."

She did so eagerly, the details spilling past her lips in a great rush as she recounted the feelings she had experienced and the voices she had heard. Stein faithfully recorded her account while Soul listened intently, hand once again rubbing the red, spine-shaped mark on his face.

Stein was quiet for a few moment after she finished. "You have made a start," he said finally, staring at the pages before him. "But there is still more to be done. Come back tomorrow if you can." With that, he snapped the book shut with a loud snap, a clear dismissal if Maka had ever heard one.

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Stein," Soul mumbled sarcastically, turning away towards the hall. Maka followed him out, a new spring in her step. Despite the dulling ache in her fingers, she felt light and optimistic about what she had discovered that day. She had made real progress in mastering her abilities; her heart pounded with excitement as she wondered what it might be like, actually touching the aether without it biting back. What would it feel like? What would she be able to accomplish?

"You seem a lot more cheerful than this morning," Soul commented suddenly, and Maka's good mood abated somewhat. With the memory of his laughter fresh in her mind, she gently whacked him in the arm. "What the - what was that for?! You already hit me with that goddamned book; what more do you want?"

"Language!" Maka scolded, though she had never cared about his vulgarity before. There was something entertaining about the way his mouth puckered into a scowl, how his brows furrowed together.

"Someone's feeling abusive today," he muttered, ignoring her rebuke. He rubbed his arm and squinted at her from the corner of his eye. "I feel sorry for whatever man gets stuck with you."

"You're one of them, though, aren't you? Partner?" Maka's eyebrow lifted up daintily, one side of her mouth just barely turned up.

Soul stared at her for a moment, then snorted loudly. "There was nothing I could have said that would have kept you away from Spartoi, was there?"

Maka gave him a smug look. "Nothing whatsoever."

"Probably just as well," Soul said, sliding the common room door open.

"And what exactly, Mister Eater, is that supposed to mean?" Maka asked, using the nickname she'd devised for him. He scowled every time it was uttered, which was precisely the reason she continued to use it.

"I suppose you'd have to stick around and find out," was his only reply as they walked through the doorway together.

Tsubaki was still at her place on one of the armchairs, though the pile of mending next to her had dwindled considerably. She looked up as the two entered, her eyes wide with concern. "I heard a scream, is everything alright?"

Soul sniggered quietly next to Maka, who tried to elbow him. He dodged neatly out of the way, much to her dismay. "Maka had a little mishap, is all," he said, smirking as he walked backwards towards the axels along the far wall. "Things went a little haywire."

"He's exaggerating," Maka said firmly, scowling at Soul before she took a seat by Tsubaki's side. "Everything is fine, really. Can I help you with anything?"

Tsubaki scanned Maka's face carefully. Satisfied with what she saw, she smiled and nodded, handing over a ripped skirt and a needle and thread. "If you would like, yes - as long as you tell me of what happened with your unfortunate suitor this morning." Her eyes sparkled in anticipation of a good story.

Maka did her best not to disappoint. With her recent victory in hand, the events from that morning seemed trivial in comparison, and Maka found herself laughing along with Tsubaki as Hiro's missteps were singled out in detail.

"Surely it cannot be as bad as you possibly describe," Tsubaki said, still giggling as Maka finished her tale. "He must have at least one redeeming quality."

"Oh, well he was pleasant-looking enough," Maka conceded, thinking of Blair's words, "but to me his appearance could hardly make up for his patronizing of my gender."

"That, I agree, is unforgivable," Tsubaki said. "If the meeting went as badly as you say, then why would your father insist on pursuing such a match? If you do not mind me asking, that is."

Maka might have brushed the question off had it been anyone else, but there was a friendliness in Tsubaki that made it impossible for her to do so. "He wishes to see me married, and he is more determined in this than I have seen him in a long time. He believes it's what is best for me."

"The ones closest to us often do," Tsubaki said softly, her hands stilling in her lap. She looked far away as she said, "But that is up to us to decide."

A part of Maka sorely wished to ask Tsubaki about what she was referring to, but she knew better. Perhaps one day they could talk about things such as these, but it was still too early in their new friendship to do so. "Still," Maka said lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I do wish he would stop choosing such horrid suitors."

"Horrid suitors?" A new voice joined their conversation. "Now this is a story I _have_ to hear." Kim and Jackie rounded either end of the couch, amused smirks on both their faces. "And I know Liz will give me what for if I don't drag you over to her so she can hear for herself."

Maka shook her head and held up her hands. "No, there's no need-"

"Nonsense," Kim said. "Liz wanted to speak with you anyway."

"Oh. Well, then I suppose-"

"Excellent." Kim took off across the common room, not bothering to look back and see if Maka was following. After exchanging a somewhat startled look with Tsubaki, they set aside their mending and trailed after her into the Thompson's workshop.

The workshop was quieter than normal: no steam escaped from the pipes near the ceiling, there was no hiss of the gastorch, nor the cacophony of metal sliding together. Maka's half-disassembled axel sat near the middle of the room, and her stomach swooped unpleasantly at the sight. She swallowed heavily and reminded herself for the hundredth time that the Thompsons knew what they were doing. She caught sight of Liz's hands darting in and out of the framework, her dexterity speaking to her years of experience. The low clinking and squeaking of tools scraping together was offset by the hushed conversation taking place in the corner; Maka looked to see Patti and Black*Star of all people hunching over several sheets of paper and gesturing emphatically at whatever was on them.

"What is going on over there?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Don't ask." Liz's head popped up behind Maka's axel, her expression both wary and resigned. "Whatever they're plotting, I don't want to know."

"If it's something you don't want to know, should really be allowed?" Though Maka had no idea how one would go about stopping the combined force of Patti and Black*Star.

Liz shook her head. "No. No, it should not." She pushed herself up and wiped her hands on an oilrag, eyes darting towards her sister. "But I've long since given up on trying to control those two, so better to let them plot where I can keep some semblance of an eye on them."

"Last time didn't turn out so well," Jackie cut in, wincing slightly.

"What happened last time?" Maka asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"The Smythe Incident," Kim said gravely. This time it was Tsubaki who winced, her mouth turned downwards in a frown.

"We don't talk about the Smythe Incident," Liz said darkly, tossing the rag away. "But that's not why you're here. I've something for you," she said to Maka, gesturing to the axel.

Maka made to move forward, but Kim held a hand out. "Not so fast," she said slyly. "Maka has a story first."

Liz tilted her head quizzically. "She does?"

Maka sighed. "It is not nearly as entertaining as you think, Kim."

"I beg to differ," Tsubaki countered, eyes sparkling. To Liz she said, "Maka's father wishes to marry her off. She met with one of her suitors this morning."

Liz's eyes went wide and she ushered them all to sit at the main table. The moment Maka sat down Liz swooped in next to her. "What happened? Tell me everything."

Maka could not help the small smile on her face and she began her story anew. She hadn't thought the girls of Spartoi would be so interested in what happened to Maka outside of the warehouse, but it seems she had been mistaken. It almost made sitting through Hiro's diatribes worth it, knowing now that she had others to confide in.

"Only you would get insulted over the fact that he had the wrong opinion about _Arthurian legend_," Liz scoffed. "But he does sound like a right bastard. Actually reminds me of this bloke I knew in the Gower Street black markets. Winters, was in? I dunno. Anyway, he thought he was the be-all, end-all of axel mechanics and kept trying to teach me how to change the oil, which really, any idiot with an oilcan can do. But I had to be friendly to him if I wanted those nice steel couplings he had at half-price. He ended up getting handsy with Patti one day and she gave him a spanner to the skull, so that was a shame."

"It sounds as though he deserved it," Tsubaki said, looking taken aback.

"Oh, he did, but he did save us a lot of money," Liz said glumly. "Can't find deals like that around Whitechapel. I mean, not if you want an axel that might make it more than fifty feet down the road."

"Jackie," Kim said suddenly, turning to her partner, "remember that man who came in one day-"

"-who tried to sell old Carruthers that faulty back brace?" Jackie finished, half-laughing.

"Never in my life have I seen someone anointed so thoroughly with a walking stick," Kim said, eyes shining with humor.

"I think there were lacquer stains on his forehead by the time he left," Jackie added. "I saw him come in later, you know."

"Really?"

"Carruthers was sitting at the bar and that old Sam flinched so hard you'd have thought someone took a swing at him."

"Do you get many people like that where you work?" Maka asked curiously.

Kim and Jackie exchanged looks. "Well," Kim said, shrugging her shoulders. "We work at Foxborough Pub, down in Camden Town. It is not one of the nicer places in London."

"So yes, there are more than a few men like Carruthers that frequent the place," Jackie said.

"And the stories they can tell," Liz jumped in, smiling widely.

"Tell her of the time the feral cat got in," Tsubaki said eagerly, leaning forward. "That one is my favorite."

Kim harrumphed and crossed her arms, sulking. "Not mine."

Jackie snorted. "It was mid-winter around, say, three years ago, I think. Kim was just about to lock up…"

And so it went. Kim and Jackie regaled the others with tales they had collected over the years from their pub, while Tsubaki chimed in with her own laments about demanding noblewomen with unusual mending requests. Liz had more than her fair share of war stories as she told of her and her sister's quests to find the best materials for the Spartoi axels - though Maka secretly suspected more than one was made up entirely. With some prodding, Maka opened up about various unpleasant characters she had come across as a baron's daughter, despite heavy censoring of names and circumstances. With every story her sides hurt a little more from laughter, and Maka thought her cheeks might go numb from smiling.

"Eventually Patti decides, 'oh, to hell with it!' and nabs the bucket of washers right from under his nose! Only there's a hole in the bottom and McNair hadn't patched it yet, so we're off running down the street leaking washers left and right, just like Hansel and Gretel."

"What did you do?" Tsubaki asked in between giggles.

"Had to throw it in a side alley," Liz said, mouth twisted into a pout. "A right shame, that. But anyone who's trying to sell a handful of washers for anything more than shilling is addled, so at least McNair never ended up with them."

"At least there is that," Kim agreed, standing up. "But I am afraid our break is over, so it is back to the pub we go."

"Will you be in tomorrow?" Liz asked, looking to Jackie. "Your axel will be ready anytime after three, probably."

Strangely, Jackie stiffened at this. Her eyes darted to a purple cycle near the corner, then over to Patti, who looked to be threatening Black*Star - who was, unbelievably, listening to her intently and not saying a word. "You haven't made any adjustments?" she asked Liz in a stilted tone.

The mechanic's eyes seemed to darken. "You know she hasn't."

Jackie nodded. "Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow." The tension dissipated slightly as she gave a brief nod goodbye, which Liz returned. Kim waved cheerfully as the two headed out, and soon Maka and Tsubaki were left sitting across from Liz.

A sudden crash had everyone jumping, save for Liz, who simply sighed and leaned her elbows on the table as she rubbed her temples. Black*Star had leaped onto the workbench and Patti was swatting at him with a rolled-up sleeve of papers, but it had no effect. Letting out something akin to a battle cry, he leaped onto the rafters and scuttled away, disappearing into some secret ceiling crawl spaces.

"And don't forget the ball bearings!" Patti hollered after him, shaking the papers.

"I don't want to know," Liz muttered darkly, straightening up and shaking her head. She shook off her apprehension and smiled at Maka, a new gleam in her eye. "Anyway, I did have something to tell you, Maka."

"Before you continue," Tsubaki said quickly, "I will take my leave as well. I must have my mending finished by tomorrow, so if you will excuse me…" She bowed her head slightly and left the table, leaving Maka to fidget excitedly at the prospect of learning more about her mother's modifications.

Liz led her over to where her gutted axel lay spread out across the floor, each piece sparkling and laid out systematically in order. Without preamble, the mechanic gathered her hair into a loose bun and dropped to her knees, sleeves rolled up as she began running her hands across various exposed parts.

"What did you find?" Maka asked breathlessly, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, her toes curling in anticipation.

"Only that your mother was a genius." Liz, sensing Maka's excitement, smiled at her from the other side of the cycle.

"Oh. Well, I knew that already."

"Yes, but do you know why?"

"I'm assuming you do?"

"That's correct!" Liz disappeared behind the axel for a moment, then popped back up with a small piece of metal in her hand. "This."

"What is it?"

"That is an excellent question." But instead of looking stymied, Liz only appeared animated. "It's not something you can buy on the market, and I know. I've tried."

"That still doesn't tell me what it is," Maka pointed out. An axel mechanic she was not.

"After some tinkering, Patti and I were able to figure it out. Tell her, Patti," she said, calling her sister over.

"It's a steam valve," her sister chirped. There was a scraping sound as Patti pushed away from her table and wandered over, bouncing on the balls of her feet in that ever-eager way of hers.

Maka furrowed her brow, her mind running through what little information she had on axel mechanics. "But I thought all axels had that."

"Not like these they don't."

"What makes that one so special?"

Liz held it up higher so it could catch the light. "You see these marks right here?" She pointed to a warped line that ran down the middle.

"Yes."

"That, my little Meister, is a soldering line. Your mother took an everyday steam valve and took it apart, only to solder it back together in a way that makes it almost three times as efficient."

"She did?"

"Yes."

"And you can't find this anywhere else?"

Liz shook her head. "I don't know how she came up with it, but it's brilliant." She studied the piece closely, worrying her lip and eyeing the piece. "I was wondering..."

Maka waited, and when she didn't continue, prompted her with a drawn out, "Yes?"

"Sissy wants to make it better!" Patti cut in.

"Not exactly better," Liz corrected hastily. "I was only thinking that we could try something. Patti's got a new design she's working on, and we've been looking to try it out. The only problem is, we could never get the output right."

"And you think you can with my axel?"

"Maybe. I can't say for certain, and I don't want to pressure you into letting me do anything. We don't like to do that; not since what happened with Jackie."

So there had been something behind that look. "What happened with Jackie?"

"Wires got crossed," Liz said grimly. "We thought she wanted an upgrade, but she didn't. Something went wrong and the cycle malfunctioned."

"She was alright though, right?"

"She was, but she's not too fond of us experimenting with her axel. Understandably."

"I fixed it," Patti said quietly. "Won't do that again."

"I know you won't Patti," Liz said soothingly. "And everyone else knows it too. But it doesn't hurt to ask." She looked back to Maka. "So what do you say?" she asked. "Would you let us fiddle around? You've got a fine axel if you don't, but we'd like to play around with it."

Maka looked to her cycle for a long moment and began chewing on her lip. A part of her wanted to keep it as it was, but who was she to keep the Thompsons from improving on what her mother had left behind? There was nothing wrong with innovation. In fact, Maka thought her mother might prefer this way. "Of course," Maka said. "Do what you like. But do try to keep it looking the same?"

Liz nodded seriously. "Of course."

"Then it's all yours."

Liz and Patti beamed. "Excellent," Liz said. "We would actually like to get started now, if you don't mind?"

Maka waved a hand. "Have at it. Please keep me updated on what is going on?"

"Of course," Liz said, but she was already distracted by the part in her hand. Soon the Thompson sisters were lost into their world of oil and machine parts, and Maka made a silent exit as they began to chatter back and forth.

Tsubaki was back at her place on the couch, focused intensely on her mending. Black*Star was nowhere to be seen, even along the rafters - but then, he had left to pick something up for Patti. Soul was the only other racer left in the common room, his back to her as he squatted next to his axel, a stained oilrag in hand.

He looked up as she approached, sitting back on his heels and wiping his hands clean. "Everything alright with your axel?"

Maka nodded, a bright smile on her face. "Apparently my mother was brilliant. Liz looked very enthusiastic."

Soul snorted. "You've probably given her work for months."

"I hope so. I would very much like to know everything about what my mother did, even if I don't quite understand it." Maka lowered herself to sit against the wall as Soul began to to work a second cloth cloth against one of the back tailpipes on his cycle. A comfortable silence settled between them, but Maka was not in the mood for quiet. "Why do you do all that yourself?" she asked abruptly, latching on the first topic she thought of.

"I may not be a mechanic of my own right, but Liz has shown me a fair number of things. I like to do what I can myself. I don't want the only time I'm with my axel to be on the streets. I want to do what I can." When Maka said nothing, he began to backtrack. "I know it sounds silly-"

"It's not," Maka said, interrupting him. "I tried to do the same thing before I joined. Only I had much less experience than you. But it is better to know your axel yourself, isn't it? I certainly don't want to ride some heap of metal I don't know."

Soul gave her a look she could not interpret.

"What?" she said defensively. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "It's nothing."

"I don't believe you," Maka said, "but never mind."

"Your session this morning seemed to go well, aside from the mishap," he said, in an attempt to change the subject. "Will you try again tomorrow?"

Maka shrugged. "I would like to, but I don't think I can. Perhaps sometime before the end of the week."

Soul nodded. "I might not be here when you do, just so you're aware."

True to his word, Soul was not present the next time she visited Stein's office. In fact, Maka could not discern any type of pattern to his presence and absence at the Spartoi warehouse, despite the partial routine she had established. On the days she could escape her father she came to the warehouse, where she would spend the mornings working in Stein's workshop. Her progress was slow but gradual, and though she had not yet mastered aether manipulation, she was becoming more familiar with her own soul and her own gifts - soul perception was nearly second nature, taking almost no time and energy to use. The afternoons she would spend with whoever was at the warehouse that day. With Tsubaki, Kim, and Jackie, conversation came easily, and they would claim one of the Thompson's worktables and talk as Liz and Patti worked. As the days passed, however, Kim became more and more fixated on some sort of league gala. The first time she had brought it up, Liz had rolled her eyes and said, "Kim, none of us are attending except you, so give it a rest!", effectively steering the conversation towards other topics, much to Maka and Tsubaki's delight.

Kilik also was easy to talk to, and the days that he could bring the twins by were quite the treat. Harvar usually drifted in and out without a word, mostly keeping to himself. One blustery afternoon, however, he chose to spend the afternoon teaching Maka a handful of new card games. When she asked him why he would not say, but when Kilik stopped by the day after with a deck of cards in his hand and a running bet with Harvar regarding Maka's card playing, she could not help but laugh when he came to collect his winnings.

Even Black*Star had come to be enjoyable company, though it had taken some time for her to grow used to him. She did grow to like him, though, especially after he marched into the common room one day and announced that it was his intention to teach Maka self-defense. After all, he'd told her, it wouldn't do to leave a follower of his at the mercy of the ruffians and crooks of the world. Maka had been skeptical at first - how in the world could a man like Black*Star ever effectively teach someone? - but he proved to be a surprisingly adept instructor. It didn't hurt matters that Maka was temperamental and willing to brain him with a book if he ever became too obnoxious. Unlike other men his age, Black*Star seemed to find great humor in this, and so they formed a camaraderie of sorts.

There was one member, however, with whom she could not create an accord. Ox seemed intent on disliking Maka and was very determined in his antagonism, rarely ever speaking to her directly if they were alone. When they were among others he took great delight in arguing with her, doing his utmost to try and humiliate her using the only common ground between them: academia. There was no denying he possessed a quick and clever mind; his breadth of knowledge rivaled Maka's own. She might have even enjoyed their debates were he to express his opinions with less sneering condescension. As it was, there seemed to be no reconciling with the pompous fool, and so Maka left him alone, content at least with her other relationships within Spartoi.

And then there was Soul. The two could not seem to hold a conversation without arguing, but Maka found it enjoyable to watch him scowl at her, to goad him into retorting back with a snarl of his teeth. When it came down to it he really was quite harmless, she decided, contrary to his outward appearance. Yet for all the time she spent with him, he was still an enigma to her, revealing nothing about his past or his actions outside Spartoi. He seemed to only exist within the warehouse, and while it was obvious to her that he belonged in that world, something told her that he had not been born into it. He had a story, she knew, but he seemed determine to hide it from everyone.

Rationally she knew that she could not pry it out of him against his will, but she decided there was one thing she could try to discover. It did influence her indirectly, after all, so what was the harm in asking?

She cornered him one afternoon as he worked on his axel once more, leaving him no escape. "What is it you do outside of here?"

"What do you mean?" The shifty way he was avoiding her gaze told her that he did know, however.

"Well, Kilik is a boxer, Tsubaki is a seamstress, Kim and Jackie work in a pub and Black*Star in a factory, and I heard Ox say that he tutors down in Chelsea, but what job do _you_ work?"

"Nothing you need to know," Soul said shortly.

"I think it's only fair you tell me," Maka wheedled, all too aware that she was being a little more manipulative than was polite. "You know the most secret thing about me, and I'm not allowed to know something as small as this?"

Soul seemed to struggle with this greatly. He chewed on his lip and glared at her, but still he didn't give in.

"Is it something embarrassing?"

"No."

"Then tell me."

"No."

A small, devilish smile crept onto Maka's face. "How about this."

Soul looked at her warily. "I know that tone. I don't like that tone."

"You and I race, just us. If I win, you have to tell me what your second job is."

Soul looked hesitant, but couldn't help asking, "And if I win?"

"Pick anything."

Soul thought for a moment, and his lips curled into what Maka had found was his signature smirk. "You're taking all my inventory shifts this month. And I'm pulling all the books out first, so you can't get out of it."

"We'll see. How about in three days; you pick the route?"

Soul nodded. "I'll let you know."

"Alright."

It was not too much later that she left the warehouse for the day, but not before making a quick stop to the Thompson's workshop, where they had once again taken her axel apart to work on it. "I have a question," she said quietly, eyes darting toward the door.

Liz tilted her head curiously.

"I'll need my axel a little earlier this time, in three days. Is there any possible way you can add something extra when you're putting her back together again?"

Patti's eyes sparkled. "You want something fast?"

The corner of Maka's mouth quirked up in a smirk. "Whatever will help me beat Soul."

The younger girl clapped her hands. "Oh, I got something for ya, alright."

"You two are the best," Maka said, smiling widely.

"We know," Liz replied, saluting to her. "But it never hurts to hear."

Maka laughed as she left the workshop behind, and as she walked home that afternoon, she could not help the extra spring in her step.

Soul would never know what hit him.

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

cod: a haughty fool

anointed: beaten

Sam: a foolish fellow, an idiot


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

There was a hushed anticipation hovering over the streets as Maka followed Soul throughout winding lanes as Kentish Town gave way to South End. A police carriage siren wailed in the distance, raising the hair on the back of Maka's neck and sending a shiver up her spine. Never before had her stomach felt so tied up in knots, never had her legs trembled so much against the side of her axel. Only the thirst to prove herself anchored her, stilling her hands and steadying her breath.

Soul slowed to a stop and she pulled alongside him, the noses of their axels just barely hanging over the edge of the curb next to them. He looked to her, red eyes catching the light of a nearby gaslamp. "You know the route?" he asked.

She nodded.

"First one back wins," he continued. "Should probably start getting cozy with that storeroom."

She snorted. "I wouldn't count me out so soon."

"You forget you've yet to beat me."

"There's always a first time for everything," Maka shot back.

"We'll see. On the count of three then?"

"How can I be certain you won't try and cheat?"

"I'm appalled you would think that of me."

"You are _not_."

Soul grinned. "Perhaps not. But I'd like to beat you fairly, so no tricks, I swear."

"How gracious of you."

"I try. Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

Soul's lips twitched. "On three, then. One… two… three!"

The relative quiet of the street was abruptly broken as both engines roared their challenges, propelling their riders forward. Maka hunched down, eyes habitually squinting behind her goggles, switching her gaze between the road and the rider next to her. With no racers behind her to pose a threat, every drop of focus she had could be utilized to make Soul eat his words.

She could almost feel the brush of his trousers, they were so close together. Neither one made a move to push away the other; their race was simply about speed.

Or at least, it would have been if the streets had been closed off like they were for official races.

The blare of an auto klaxon made Maka's stomach drop, and she looked right to see the harsh yellow headlights of a steam coach bearing down on her from a side street. Her heart took up residence in her throat as she slammed on the brakes and swerved, cursing Soul as he elegantly slipped around the front side. Maka revved her engine and shot around the back, eyes desperately scanning the road for her partner.

He was turned back to look at her, his mouth stretched into a far-too-smug smile that made Maka's blood boil. His gloating, however, would cost him.

A maintenance automaton teetered on spindly legs as it stood in the road, working on a broken gaslamp ahead. Soul's path had him racing straight for it.

Maka's mouth opened in a wordless shout. She had no time to warn him, no way for her voice to carry through the wind to reach him in time. Her worry was unnecessary, as Soul saw the panic on her face and swiveled around to catch sight of the machine in front of him. With a squeal of rubber, he pulled onto the sidewalk and flew past so quickly the auto wobbled dangerously in the backdraft he created.

Soul's troubles were far from over, as the sidewalk was an infinitely more dangerous route than the street was. Maka took the opportunity to catch up as Soul darted around bystanders and streetlamps, leaving indignant shouts and shrill screams in his wake.

Maka was right by his side once he swerved back onto the street; he took one look at her covered face and shouted, "Not a goddamn word!" over the space between them. Though he couldn't see her delighted grin, the look on his face suggested that he could imagine it just fine.

Their obstacles did not end there, of course. Not only was their race on open streets, but Haverstock Hill was populated with more homes than any of their normal courses, and that meant more traffic to avoid. Maka's stomach seemed permanently rooted in her knees while her heart was no longer satisfied behind her ribs, preferring instead to continue its lodging within her throat. Every nerve, every muscle, every fiber of her mind was attuned to her surroundings, ready to make the slightest correction in a second.

She had never felt so alive.

She and Soul wove around each other in a kind of thrilling dance as carriage horns blared around them. If she'd thought the races she'd already completed were unpredictable, then she had been sorely mistaken.

The steam carriages began to thin as they approached Hampstead, and buildings lots slowly morphed into fields and lodges. The dull roar of London faded, leaving only the sharp autumn air and the harsh aroma of farmlands. Their race, however, was far from over, and though a part of Maka wished that she might slow down and take in the the calming atmosphere of Outer London, the rest of her thirsted for both first place and Soul's answer to her question.

They rounded Branch Hill in a near tie and reentered Roslyn Hill, both as tense as bowstrings. The noise and commotion returned full force, though the traffic looked a little sparser. Maka snorted; perhaps they'd heard of the illegal street race taking place and decided upon another route.

There were no more close calls on their second tour of Haverstock Hill, though at times it did feel infinitely more harrowing. Maka had noticed the incline during their first lap of the street, of course, but it hadn't seemed quite as steep as it did descending. The engine of her axel quieted as gravity took over, dragging her down at a relentless pace. For a moment, Maka almost wanted to spread her wings like a bird ready to take flight, though she doubted she would have even been able to peel her fingers from the handlebars.

Her gut clenched as Haverstock Hill became Chalk Farm Road; here was the final stretch, and where she would prove herself and win her prize. She could feel the material of her fingerless gloves creak as she slid her hand towards the steering column. On it sat a inconspicuous blue knob, one that hadn't been present the day before. Maka recalled the sisters' instructions…

"_And you just gotta turn this when you wanna really go!" Patti said, beaming in that sunny way of hers as she gestured to the knob in question. _

"_But only near the end," Liz cautioned, wiping her hands on a rag. "We've set it to burn quickly, since we don't know the full effects of a longer rate."_

"_It's safe, though, right?" Maka asked, caution warring with excitement. _

"_We've tested it the best we can," Liz said. "And we're not known for doing anything halfway. You've my word that this will help you beat Soul, no questions."_

_Maka's lips curled. "That is all I needed to hear."_

Maka twisted the knob with no hesitation… and nearly fell off her axel. Her surroundings melted into a blur and her face went numb as she shot forward, leaving Soul far, far behind.

The buildings on either side melted into an indistinct blur, the wind tearing at her hair and pulling hard at her coat. The loud roar of her engine rumbled against her ribcage, a counterpoint to her racing heart. Never before had she reached speeds like this; the thrill was a brand of exhilaration she had never felt before.

She wasn't even entirely sure what curb actually counted as the finish, as they all looked around the same to her. A pleased gasp escaped her throat as she caught sight of the familiar alley she had been lined up next to, and her fingers tightened around her handlebars in excitement. She had really done it; she had beaten Soul!

It took her three blocks more for her to come to a complete stop. Maka's chest heaved and she remained frozen in place, axel throbbing with heat as it cooled down. Every nerve tingled like it had been struck by lightning; her flesh prickled as sweat cooled on her skin and pasted her clothes to her body. Though the race had finished, Maka could not shake the adrenaline from her veins.

Soul finally screeched to a stop beside her, tearing off his cap as he dismounted. "What the hell, Maka?!" he demanded, white hair in a wild disarray.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, legs shaking as she clambered off her cycle. Soul's hand automatically steadied her arm as she tipped to the side, and she murmured a quiet thanks as he watched her with disgruntled eyes.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "You cheated!"

A flash of anger burned away some of the exhilarated fog in Maka's mind. "I did not!"

"Then how do you explain that?" Soul gestured to her axel jerkily. "Don't tell me you found another hidden magic button!"

"Patti simply asked if she might experiment with a new mod. I allowed her the courtesy. And before you begin, there was no rule against that!"

"I - that wasn't - you didn't-" Soul spoke in starts and stops, his thoughts jumbled and disconnected. Eventually he settled on, "It's still not fair."

Maka grinned triumphantly. "But I did win according to the rules we set."

Soul let out a sound caught between a growl and a whine. "Only through extenuating circumstances."

"I will take what I can get."

"Take what you will," he muttered darkly, changing the subject. "We should get back before someone plucks up the courage to let the coppers know what's going on."

The haze of adrenaline slowly faded as they rumbled down Camden Road, leaving Maka's limbs heavy as lead. She sighed in relief as the garage door rumbled open to allow them access. As soon as their axels were tucked against the wall, she made straight for the couch and collapsed onto it, yanking her cap, goggles, and collar off.

Soul lowered himself into the armchair next to her and removed his own gear. They sat in silence for a minute before Maka squirmed into an upright position and said, "Alright then, Eater, I won. Time to pay up."

Soul groaned. "Must I?"

"You must."

He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping on the armrest as she watched him. Minutes stretched by in silence, but Soul didn't seem inclined to speak. Maka was about to lean over and prod him when he finally answered. "I work at a gentlemen's club over in West End. As a piano player."

Maka blinked. "You're… a pianist? At a gentlemen's club?"

Soul was tense as he nodded. "Yes."

"That… is not what I was expecting."

His brows drew together and he looked somewhat affronted. "What were you expecting?"

"Something more scandalous, I suppose."

"And just who do you think I am?"

"I don't know. That seems to be the problem." Soul opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off before he could. "What gentlemen's club, exactly?"

"Oh no," Soul said immediately. "That I am not telling you."

"And why not?"

"Because knowing you, you'll find some way to sneak in and I will not be fired over your insatiable curiosity."

"It can't be White's or Brooks's," Maka mused aloud, thinking over the establishments her father had been known to visit. Of course, he much preferred the less savory clubs, but she knew he often went to White's on business matters.

"And why would you say that?" Soul asked, baffled.

"You don't seem like you would be fond of highborn frivolities, that's all," Maka said, shrugging. She bit back a smile as she pictured Soul among the men she knew frequented the clubs, a sour look on his face. No, he most certainly did not belong in the gentrified clubs.

Soul still looked taken aback at her words, and was quiet for a moment. Finally he murmured, "Perhaps you know me better than you think."

Maka mulled over his words for a moment, unsure as to what to say. She licked her lips thoughtfully, but before she could speak, Soul heaved a sigh and said,"You're something, Maka. I don't know quite what yet, but you're something."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

"I'm not sure I meant it as one."

"Oh, I know."

Soul chuckled. "Well, if you're satisfied-"

"You should know never to say that to me."

"I'll rephrase. Since I've answered the question and t's growing late, I believe you should be going home for the night."

Maka nodded. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, just so you're aware."

"Alright. I suppose I'll see you when I see you, then." He tossed her a small salute as she pushed herself up off the couch and crossed the room to duck underneath the garage door into the alley. The steel rumbled and settled on the ground behind her, and Maka took a moment to breath in the crisp air around her. The cold seemed to chase away some of the ache in her limbs, and so it was with a lighter step that she turned her path to Belgravia.

She could not help the grin on her face as she walked - the look on Soul's face when she had beaten him! It did not matter to her that the race had not been official, that no one outside of Spartoi would hear of her victory. The only person she had anything to prove to was herself, and she'd certainly satisfied that wish.

Though… that wasn't completely true, was it? Yes, the race had been for her, but hadn't she also wanted to prove something to Soul? She couldn't deny her desire to show him up, to prove that she was just as adept a racer as he, and that she belonged in Spartoi just as much as the rest.

But since when did Maka care what Soul thought?

Maka didn't like where that train of thought led her, so she focused instead on Soul's puzzling words. She knew very little about him, and yet he seemed to think that she knew more than she did. Had the conversation been more enlightening than she had first thought?

"_You don't seem like you would be fond of highborn frivolities, that's all."_

The words had come easily, after all, Soul _didn't_ seem like the type. But the words had struck him oddly, and so she reviewed them carefully, hoping to glean whatever meaning he had found in them. Really, though, she had only said them because that had been her view of the nobility and he seemed similar to her in that regard, though her dislike stemmed from her social class, where his came from…

"_Perhaps you know me better than you think."_

Surely not… though as she thought about it, the connection made sense. How Soul didn't seem truly a part of the racing world, how he was determined to keep his background a secret from all others. After all, wasn't Maka doing something similar?

She could not help but chuckle. Here she was, complaining that she did not know a single thing about him, when really, it appeared that she knew more than anyone.

But as he had not told her directly, Maka would keep quiet. Soul had gone to great lengths to hide his breeding, and so Maka would respect that, as she knew he would do the same for her.

So it was with no small sense of satisfaction that she climbed the front steps of Number 13 that night. Only the quiet greeted her as she stepped inside; Maka had instructed Blair against waiting for her. Still, as she began to climb the stairs, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of purple disappear behind a door at the end of the corridor. Smiling wryly to herself, Maka locked herself in her room and dressed for bed, not caring where her racing gear fell in her weary state. With a sigh, she crawled into bed and burrowed deeply into the pillows, slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly.

* * *

><p>Maka woke with a gasp so strong it felt as though someone had sucked the breath right out of her lungs. For a moment she remained still, blinking up at the ceiling, hands fisted in sweaty sheets. Her heart pounded in her ears, every beat sounding louder and louder and louder with every second that ticked by. Her skin crawled in discomfort, but Maka was baffled as to the reason. No nightmare had woken her, yet still her stomach twisted in fear.<p>

_Something's not right._

The curtains over her window remained dark, shadows clinging to the corners of her room, warping the furniture into distorted shapes and morphing the familiar layout into a sinister landscape. Maka had never been afraid of the dark before, but then, she had never been so sure that something evil lurked within it.

The knowing made her cautious, and so she remained where she was, frozen in bed, eyes flicking to every corner of the room she could see. The darkness made everything seem out of place, only heightening her anxiety. She dared not even breathe, lest she disturb the eerie hush that pervaded the air.

A sudden creak had her shooting upright and her heart skipping a beat. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the side of the bed, ready to bolt away in a split second. A series of hollow thumps followed after, but the familiarity of the sound made her pause. This was something she'd heard before nearly every night in this house - the settling of rafters and the expanding of pipes that ran through the walls. Most likely she'd heard the house settling in her sleep, and that was what had woken her. Maka unclenched her hands from the sheets, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. She had not woken in such a state of terror since she was a little girl, and her mother had been alive to coax her back to sleep. Well, she was nineteen now and the old house no longer had the power to frighten her, and so she took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart.

_Scrick-scrick. Scrick-scrick. _

Maka's chest seized and her heart stuttered. She knew this house, she knew the sounds it made, and that scuttling sound was _not_ one of them.

The world seemed to stop and hold its breath as she slowly swiveled her head, pupils blown wide as they peered into the gloom. The moon chose that moment to step out from behind a cloud, and a pale strip of moonlight slowly lit the bottom of the curtains, gilding the shadows in the room with a silver edge. The light just barely hit the pile of clothes Maka had abandoned to the floor mere hours ago, revealing a small lump wiggling underneath the fabric.

Maka froze, not daring to breathe as she watched the lump inch forward, closer and closer to the side of the bed where she lay. Adrenaline surged through her body with every frantic beat of her heart, jump-starting her mind and limbs.

Weapon. She needed a weapon.

Anything sharp or useful - her letter opener, her hair pins - remained on her writing desk and vanity, both of which lay behind the scuttling lump. She needed something closer, oh God she needed something, _anything_ before it reached her…

Her eyes lit upon the gilded ivory jewelry box sitting on one of the lower shelves on her nightstand. She hesitated briefly, because it had once belonged to her mother, but the lump made another noise and her resolve strengthened.

Carefully, she adjusted herself on the bed and slowly reached for the box, gaze not wavering from the small lump. Her breath huffed in surprise as she picked it up; the box was heavier than she'd anticipated and was awkward to lift kneeling on the bed as she was. But fear made her strong, and her arms did not shake as she cradled the box to her chest and slid her legs closer to the edge.

The lump was near the hem of her riding coat now, emitting a _scrick-scrick_ every few centimeters. Maka sucked in a steadying gulp of air, and before the lump could reveal itself, she launched from her bed and swung the box down with every ounce of strength she possessed.

A sickening, muffled _crunch_ came from beneath the fabric. The lump caved in below the corner of the ivory box as the scuttling cut off abruptly, but Maka wanted to be sure. She lifted the box high again, muscles trembling with terror and exertion, but before she could strike…

_Release me._

Maka nearly dropped the jewelry box on her own head in surprise. Quickly, she brought it back down to her chest, her fingers tightening in case the need for the box arose again. In a voice far too tremulous for her own liking, she whispered, "Who's there?"

_Please. Help me._

A voice that wasn't a voice resonated deeply within her; though the words were not spoken aloud, Maka heard them as clearly as if they'd been spoken right into her ear. And the source of the voice lay below her, twitching underneath her shawl.

Maka swallowed hard, shifting the box to one arm as she cautiously bent forward, curiosity and common sense warring within her. Her hand flexed uncertainly, hovering just above her clothes. Should she reveal whatever it was she had crushed, or step back and finish the job?

In a second, her fingers curled around the fabric and yanked the material away. What she saw made her gasp and step back as she held the box out like a shield.

Lying on the rug, leaking oil and twitching pathetically, were the remains of an automaton spider. The body was about the size of her fist, the spindly legs thin as knitting needles. A jagged hole in the side showed miniature clockwork gears ticking sluggishly within, pistons pumping furiously as they tried to compensate for the damage.

_Help. Release me. Please._

The voice came again, and this time, Maka knew without a doubt that it was the spider who had called out to her. One leg extended jerkily towards her; Maka flinched, but remained where she was.

_Please._

Pure, unadulterated agony. Maka cried out with the sheer force of it, clutching the box like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. Wave after wave of misery crashed over her, nearly bringing her to her knees.

"Stop… stop it," she gasped. "Oh God… please."

_Release me. Help me._

Without thinking, she breathed deeply and called out with her soul, unsure of what she would find. The voice tugged at her gut, as though responding to something deep inside her.

With a great roar, her call was answered. Light flooded her vision and cleared, and suddenly there was a writhing, twisting ball of energy lying on the rug before her.

Maka gaped. Somehow, the spider carried with it a soul, a soul that seemed to be battling against itself, red and blue coming together and flying apart in a fantastic whirl of colors. It looked… sick.

_Release me,_ it repeated. The soul lit up briefly before the red smothered it, pushing the blue down and causing the legs of the spider to twitch wildly.

"Release?" Maka whispered. "What do you…" It was then that the soul shifted, revealing a thin tether attaching it to the automaton. Maka's mind worked furiously, putting the pieces together, and though she did not want to believe it, the proof was lying there on her bedroom floor.

Someone had taken a soul and tied it to an automaton, but whoever was responsible had done a shoddy job of it. The soul was torn between the light and the dark, wrestling with itself even as its tether stubbornly clung to the dying machine. There was only one way to end the automaton for good, and that was to release the soul from the spider. That was what it was asking for.

"I… don't know if I can," Maka said helplessly, unsure if she was talking to the automaton or to herself. After her small-scale failure in Stein's workshop, she had been trying day after day to reach out and manipulate the aether in some way, but had not once ever been successful. Now a tortured human soul was begging for her help even as it withered away in front of her. The pressure wrapped around her chest like a vise, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. She didn't know if she could free this soul.

But she had to _try_.

Maka set the jewelry box on the floor gently and sat down beside it, her legs tucked underneath her. The spider twitched feebly as the soul continued to try and tear itself apart, and Maka closed her eyes to avoid looking at it.

Her soul called out again, latching onto the tortured soul's response tightly. It overwhelmed her senses completely, until she could no longer feel the soft rug beneath her legs, or smell the aroma of lavender and oil that filled the room. It was as though she existed in a vacuum, where the only occupants were her soul and the spider's. Tentatively she tried to reach out to the energy like she had in Stein's workshop, but the soul twisted away, slipping from her grasp with every try. She wasn't strong enough, her soul wasn't strong enough. She needed more.

That unfamiliar energy she had felt outside herself appeared once more, its call clear and strong as it silently asked permission to enter. Without thinking, Maka allowed it inside, and in a second she was filled to the brim with burning heat. It pushed against her skin, crashed through her bones, crawled between her muscles. Maka gasped aloud and her eyes flew open, but what she saw was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

The room was dark no longer - colors Maka had never seen before twisted and danced together to invisible music, permeating the very walls of her room as they moved. This - this was aether in its purest form. This was what filled her, this was that burning heat that nipped at her soul and reinforced every particle of her being.

On instinct, she reached out again. This time, the aether she'd allowed in reached with her, coating her soul in steel and carbon, stabilizing her grip and giving weight to her demands. She watched herself reach out, her hand steadier than she'd ever seen it before. The spider's soul flinched away, but she was relentless in her pursuit, and soon her fingers seized upon it. It was surprisingly soft and malleable, but there was a unnaturalness to it, like a rotten peach. The tether, however, was strong and very reluctant to release its prize. Maka grit her teeth and adjusted her grip, pouring more and more aether into every tug.

The tether stretched thin, until it was only a silver thread barely visible between the aether and the moonlight. Still it held on, the blue and red within the soul growing more agitated with every second.

The aether grew hot and buzzed under Maka's skin until she felt her head might explode. Something warm and wet dribbled past her mouth and chin as she pushed harder and harder; her vision began to cave inwards. Her heart pounded and her blood felt on the verge of boiling.

But just when Maka thought she might let go, the tether snapped. The spider fell still instantly and the colors froze in the midst of their battle. The fire in her body receded, and Maka could breathe again.

The soul in her hand sprang to life once more, but the tide had turned in the blue's favor. Now that the tether was gone, it could turn its full attention to the red attacking it, and in a few moments, the soul had purged itself and regained its healthy glow.

_Thank you._

Maka smiled and gently squeezed the soul; the edges began to blur and her fingers slipped through the energy very slightly. As she watched, it began to flake apart and disintegrate into the air. The aether swirling around it seemed to welcome the influx of energy, spiraling faster and faster as it collected the pieces. If Maka listened closely, she could almost hear music as it moved.

Finally, when her hand was empty and the air felt like lightning, the aether inside Maka pushed once more, this time from inside to out. With a gasp, she aided its release, expelling all the energy that she could, but it nearly overwhelmed her. There was too much and it fought against her, contrary in every way. It wanted to leave, and yet it wanted to stay. Parts of it clung greedily to her soul, drawn to its glow like a moth to a flame. Her soul cried out and shrunk in on itself, unused to the aether and already exhausted. A dull ache flared in Maka's chest, and she fisted her hand in her nightgown as her eyes screwed shut.

"Get out get out _get out_," she mumbled, ribs heaving and heart thumping in panic. What if she couldn't get rid of the aether? It would burn her up from the inside out!

_No._ No, it would not, because Maka wouldn't let it. With a snarl on her lips, she reached deep inside, scooping and scraping and violently pulling all of the aether she could reach. Energy seeped from her fingers, her mouth, her eyes… she _bled_ aether, until she had drained every last drop. The tone of the room lowered in pitch until it was a dissatisfied hum, but it did not press any further. With the last of her energy, Maka closed the door, snuffing out her soul perception and dulling the room into its blanket of shadows.

The world was suddenly too quiet; Maka didn't know how long she sat on the rug, wobbling vaguely and panting with exhaustion. Her face felt sticky and warm, and she reached up to wipe at her chin. Her hand came back stained red with blood.

It took her a few minutes to summon the strength to stand and stumble over to her vanity. After rummaging through the drawers, she withdrew a folded handkerchief that she dabbed across her mouth, gut twisting as she took in of the coppery red streaks that colored the cloth.

She stared down at the spider as she cleaned her face. What was she to do with it? Stein would need to see it, of course, but she couldn't just leave it in the middle of her bedroom floor. Her mind churned sluggishly, working through options as she tried to keep her balance.

If she was recalling correctly, the chest in the corner of her room had an old satchel she used to collect flowers in. It would be sufficient to carry to the warehouse the next morning.

An abrupt crackling sound had her jumping out of her skin, and Maka whirled around to face the small gray box attached to the wall by her bed. The intercom was wired throughout the house in order to connect the help to the family they served, but Maka rarely used the device. Blair's voice echoed from it now, her voice anxious as she asked "Miss Maka? Blair heard a loud noise; is everything alright?"

Maka hit the button below the speaker and said, "Yes, Blair, everything's fine. I simply… fell out of bed." She winced at the feeble excuse, but it was too late to take back her words.

Blair sounded suspicious. "If Miss Maka says so."

Maka felt terrible for lying to her maid, but what could Blair do at this point? "Yes, I'm sure. Go back to sleep."

"Only if Miss Maka does the same."

"I am. Thank you, Blair."

The speaker crackled again as she released the button and pulled back. Maka waited for footsteps on the stairs, but it seemed that Blair was giving Maka the benefit of the doubt. She made a note to tell her everything after Stein had taken a look at the machine.

After she packed the spider away and tucked the satchel underneath her bed, Maka collapsed into the pillows once more, the cool silk soothing her pounding head. So tired and sore was she that the low _scrick-scrick_ of a second spider went unnoticed as it scuttled across the floor and slipped through the window into the quiet London night.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

When Maka woke up the next morning, it took her quite a while to remember why her body ached like she had run halfway across London, and why her head was ringing like a bell tower. It took her even longer to summon the energy to sit up, and it was with great care that she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. When Blair bustled in to dress her for the day, Maka knew there was no hiding last night's ordeal.

Blair's eyes widened as the spider was uncovered, listening attentively as Maka described what had happened. When she had finished, Blair looked troubled as she fixed her charge with a serious gaze. "Blair does not like the look of this. She has heard… rumors."

Some of the cotton in Maka's head cleared. "You know who is behind this?"

Blair shook her head. "Blair does not want to say. But when you talk with this Stein, ask him about Arachne."

A shiver crawled up Maka's spine. "Can you not come with me?"

"I do not think Blair would be much help; she has only heard rumors. And how would you explain Blair to your friends? They still do not know who you are."

Guilt soured her stomach, but Maka couldn't deny Blair's words. "Very well. I will ask about the name."

Thirty minutes later, Maka was on her way to the warehouse. Her steps were slow but her pace was steady, and though she still felt sore, the cold helped to numb some of the ache. The satchel hit her thigh with every step she took, a constant reminder of the burden she carried. As she entered into Kentish Town, her thoughts shifted to burdens of the more intangible nature.

Last night, her plan for the day had been simple: bring the spider to Stein for inspection. But something Blair had said resonated within her, twisting her insides with guilt. How could she in good conscious keep her friends in the dark about this? Yes, whoever had sent the spider was clearly after her, but there was no guarantee that Maka could keep the others out of it. Would it not be better if they were prepared, if they were aware of the potential danger surrounding her? After all, what real good was this secret doing her? As she thought, the less sense it made. What was the purpose in the lying now? Perhaps she had become so accustomed to it that deception was now second nature to her.

No longer, she decided. No more secrets, no more lies. The spider had changed the game, and so Maka would change her strategy.

Her steps picked up with a new resolve, and soon she found herself standing in the back alley, rapping briskly on the garage door and slipping under as it rolled open.

Maka thanked the stars that her teammates chose to stop by the warehouse every morning, as it would save time in trying to gather everyone to hear her story. Nygus stood in the center of everyone, reading off a leather-bound records book in her hand, no doubt assigning errands and duties for the week. As always, it was Soul who noticed her first, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "I thought you said you couldn't-" He stopped short as she straightened up. "What happened? You look terrible."

"Just what a lady wants to hear," Maka said dryly. "If you'd come with me, we have an appointment with Stein."

"We do?" he asked, but he followed after her anyway.

"Yes," Maka said, lifting the bag higher on her shoulder. "We do."

Soul's eyes followed her movement as they passed into the back hallway. "I'm not sure I should ask, but what is in there?"

"Nothing good. But no doubt it will please Stein."

"Definitely nothing good, then."

Maka stopped short and turned on him; Soul stumbled to avoid running into her. "I want to tell them."

He blinked. "Tell… the others? You mean about-"

"Yes. Especially now, after…" Her hand gripped the bag a little tighter. "We need to tell them."

Soul searched her face in the dim light. "You're sure?"

"I am."

"It's your secret to do with as you please, of course. And I'll go with whatever you choose."

Maka gave him her first genuine smile of the day. "Thank you."

"Can I ask why you chose to drag me away with cryptic words instead of telling them back there?"

"Because I don't know yet what this is about," - she tapped the satchel - "and I'd rather not tell them everything until I know it for myself."

"Fair enough. You do realize they're killing themselves out there trying to figure it out?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it. We'd better get to it then, shall we?" She turned sharply once again and walked briskly towards Stein's office, ignoring Soul's mutters of "wasn't me who stopped, was it?"

Stein looked up as Maka threw the door open, his face as composed as ever. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"A new toy," Maka answered, brushing past him on her way to his worktable. She swept the papers off and dumped the satchel onto it. Surprise flashed across Stein's face, and despite the fatigue that hung heavily on her shoulders, she felt a surge of satisfaction.

Wordlessly, Stein flicked the clasp open and emptied the bag. The spider clattered out in all its crumpled glory, looking much less frightening than it had in her shadowy room. "And just what have you been up to?" Stein murmured, poking at the little automaton.

Maka wasn't entirely sure who he was talking to, but she answered anyway. "I discovered that in my room last night."

Soul peered over her shoulder at it. "It looks as though someone took a hammer to it."

"Well, it was a jewelry box, but essentially, yes."

He snickered loudly. "Of course it was."

"It was scuttling towards me! What was I supposed to do?"

"I do wish you hadn't been quite so thorough," Stein said suddenly, interrupting them. "This is an extraordinary piece of machinery."

"I do apologize Doctor, but I'm afraid I was rather focused on the threat to my safety, so do excuse any dents I may have caused." The sarcasm was thick, but Stein didn't seem to take heed of it. Soul did, of course, and snorted once again.

Stein stilled suddenly, hands hovering over something inside the spider. "This wasn't just any attack, was it." It wasn't a question.

"Well… no. I was getting to that part. That spider, it… called out to me."

"It spoke?" Soul asked, startled.

"This machine has no speaker," Stein said. "It has no way to verbally communicate."

"The physical machine might not, but the soul inside did."

Soul seemed to choke on his own tongue, but if Stein was surprised by what she said, he didn't show it. "Continue."

"I hit it with my jewelry box, but before I could strike again, I heard this voice. And it sounded like it was in - so much pain." Her brow wrinkled as she recalled the agony she had felt. "I set the box down, and I used my soul perception… there was a soul attached to that spider."

"And what did it look like?" Stein asked, fiddling with the spider once more. "Be specific."

"It didn't resemble any soul I have ever seen before. This one looked… tampered with, almost. It was a blue soul, but there was red tainting it, and it looked as though it were fighting itself. After I pulled it out-"

"You pulled the soul?" Stein said sharply. "You manipulated the aether directly?"

"That was the only way to release it," Maka defended. "It asked me for help and it sounded so miserable, I could not leave it sitting there. I wanted to help."

"And you succeeded?"

"Yes." Maka could not help the proud little smile on her face. "I pulled the soul out, and it seemed to purify itself. Afterwards it seemed to break apart into the air."

"As souls do upon death," Stein said. "And this one was tainted, you said?"

"That is how it appeared."

Stein reached up to turn his screw before going back to work on the spider, leaving a strange silence in his wake.

"Are you certain you're alright?" Soul asked suddenly. He was still hovering by her shoulder, throwing occasional glances to the automaton on the table.

"Of course."

"I only ask because the bags underneath your eyes say otherwise."

Maka sighed. He was right, of course. Powder was only able to do so much, after all. "I do hope your mother didn't tell you that that was how you talked to a lady."

"Who said I was talking to a lady?" he said quietly, and she was startled to see that he had leaned far over to whisper directly in her ear. His smile made it clear that he was teasing her as a friend would, but the rush of blood to her cheeks and the swooping of her stomach were decidedly _not_ reactions to a friend, and goosebumps prickled her flesh at his nearness. They were soon forgotten as her stomach twisted uncomfortably with guilt. He had indirectly named another secret she had been keeping from her friends. It was all well and good, deciding to tell the others about her soul, but what of her name? Would she reveal that today as well?

"I'd mind your manners, Mister Eater." But her retort was half-hearted, and judging from the way Soul shifted to look at her, it had not escaped his notice.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Maka, I'm your partner. Let me ask."

She couldn't meet his eyes, wouldn't turn around to see the concern there. How could she, when she was lying to him as well? "I'm fine, Soul. It was more difficult than I had anticipated, but that's all."

"I don't think I believe you."

"You're free to think whatever you want. Have you finished yet?" This last was directed to Stein, who still looked absorbed in his new project.

"I confess that I cannot seem to glean much useful information here," Stein admitted, stepping back and wiping his hands on his patched lab coat. "I cannot shed light on who might have instigated the attack."

"On the contrary, I think I can assist with that," Maka said, gesturing to the spider.

"Oh? Then enlighten me."

"Not here."

"Pardon?"

"We speak with the others, or we don't speak at all."

Maka had been expecting him to resist, but she was surprised when he nodded to her and said, "If that is what you wish." He gathered the spider back up into the bag, making sure to keep it in one piece despite its half-disassembled state.

"You're not going to protest?" she asked.

"It is not my soul that is being sought after," Stein reminded her as he brushed past her on the way out the door. "It is your decision in the end."

"Oh. I suppose it is." She followed after him, Soul not far behind.

As they entered the common room, now occupied by every Spartoi member - Sid, Nygus, and even the Thompsons - questions flew left and right, and though Maka had been expecting it, they still caught her off guard.

"Alright, now what the bloody hell is going on?"

"You two have been keeping secrets-"

"I know we all have secrets-"

"Don't know why Stein's out here-"

"-but a little honesty is _not_ too much to ask."

"-for far too long and it is about time-"

"-or what he could possibly have to do with anything…"

"If you all could kindly shut your traps we would be able to tell you," Soul snapped, red eyes narrowed in a glare.

"It's to do with the bag, isn't it?" Kim asked, warily eyeing the satchel Stein was setting down on the table.

"It does," Maka confirmed.

Metal struck wood as Stein pulled the spider out; the space around the table soon became crowded as each member craned their necks to catch a glimpse.

"What is that?"

"It's tiny-"

"Where did it come from?"

"-couldn't even do any _damage_…"

"That machine attacked me last night," Maka said loudly, cutting through the chatter. "That is why it's here."

"Why would it attack you?" Kilik asked, looking slightly alarmed.

"Didn't do much, I'd warrant," Black*Star said loudly. "All dented like that. Unless _you_ did that," he said suddenly, eyes sparking with excitement as he spoke to Maka.

"What was I supposed to do, let it have its way with me?" she asked indignantly.

Black*Star hooted and clapped her none-too-gently on the back. "Well done!"

Soul shoved his friend back. "Now is _not_ the time, 'Star."

"We still haven't addressed why it was there," Jackie interrupted. She looked between Stein and Maka. "Though I have a feeling you know that."

Stein began to speak and the attention shifted his way; Maka was grateful for the slight reprieve. She would be at the center of it again soon enough. "The night Maka was attacked at the race was no accident. We believe she was deliberately targeted by the rogues."

"How do you know?"

"Then why attack everyone else as well?"

"Why?"

"We know they're after me because I have something they want," she said loudly, cutting off the questions. "Something they would go to great lengths to acquire."

"Do not tell me we let a nimmer into our league," Ox said vehemently. "If you've stolen something-"

"She hasn't stolen anything," Soul replied heatedly. "What they want belongs to her and her alone."

"Then what is it they want?" Liz asked. "And why can't you simply give it to them?"

Maka hesitated. "That is not going to be easy to explain." Honestly, she hadn't thought quite that far ahead. How was she to convince them of her ability? Stein knew because he possessed a part of it, and Soul had witnessed her manipulate aether for himself. Perhaps that was the only way to be sure they would believe her. "But I think I might be able to show you."

"What are you - no. No, I know what you're thinking, and it's not-"

"It is the only way, Soul, and you know it. You would not have believed me if you hadn't seen it-"

"I would have," he said stubbornly. "I would have believed you."

"Admirable as that is, I don't think that's entirely true. So let me show them."

"Show us what?" Kim asked.

"This." Maka brought her hands together and closed her eyes, hoping desperately she could pull some parlor trick out of her hat to convince them. Souls were not the only thing she could manipulate, after all - the free aether was also at her command, and that was what she called out to, wincing as the energy pressed against her once more. This time, though, instead of throwing the door open, she pushed it a crack, letting a fraction inside. Still it burned and itched under her skin, but Maka grit her teeth and bore it silently.

Opening her eyes, she focused on her hands, bringing them apart to skim her fingers through the swirls of energy she saw in front of her. They played with her fingers, winding in and out before dancing away, but Maka didn't reach out to them like she had before. Instead she called gently, coaxing the energy and letting it approach her and pool in her hands. When she had a small handful, she supplemented using the aether inside her, focusing on the color and calling for it to burn bright, to cast off its invisibility, to shine for the world around it.

Weak, flickering light leaked through her fingers, fluttering like a dim candle in the wind. Maka sucked in a breath and pushed more, fueling the pool in her hands. _Burn_, she commanded. _Burn and glow for the world to see_. _Shine for me_.

The energy grew hotter, the streaks of color becoming more vibrant with every second that passed. Those nearby gasped and murmured, eyes wide as their neighbors leaned inwards to catch a glimpse.

But the handfuls she'd collected were growing too hot for Maka to hold. In a burst of inspiration, she threw it up in the air, a small firework to light every corner of the common room. Cries of astonishment and wonder had Maka smiling before the heated press of the aether within brought her crashing down. With a shudder she forcefully expelled it, pushing and shoving every little piece she'd let in out into the staticky air. Her head filled with pressure as she concentrated, until it felt like she might explode, but with one last heaving breath, the last of the energy left her and the gate swung violently closed.

"When did you learn to do that?" Soul asked in awe, head tilted back to watch the aether fade into the air.

"Just now," she said, her voice cracking despite her attempts to sound normal.

Soul's head whipped around and he blanched when he saw her face. "Bloody hell, Maka, you're bleeding!"

"I am?" she asked, dazed. She reached a hand up to her nose and pulled back to see sticky red liquid on her fingertips. "Oh. That happened last night too, but I thought-"

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Soul was on the verge of an apoplectic fit.

"I thought I'd overexerted myself. If I did something smaller this time-"

"That is an unshakeable line of thinking right there," Soul said tightly.

"I'm sorry, but are we not going to address the light show Maka produced?" Liz interrupted shakily. "Because I, for one, am _very_ anxious for some answers."

Stein took over once more as Soul guided Maka to a chair and produced a handkerchief to stem the trickle of blood from her nose. "We have determined that Maka possesses what is known as a Grigori soul. She can manipulate a substance called 'aether.'"

"I was under the impression that aether was what light used to travel," Ox said, looking equal parts curious and disconcerted.

"That is what some scientists believe," Stein allowed. "Others such as myself know it to be the matter that makes up our souls."

"How can you know for certain?" Ox pressed.

"I know because I have witnessed it. While Maka can see and manipulate this material, I may only view it."

"You can - and you didn't feel inclined to share this information with us?" Ox demanded.

Stein shrugged. "Who among you would have believed me? My talent is not as conducive to flashy displays in order to prove itself. You would have only had my word."

Maka could see the conflict written across her friends' faces. Stein made a very good point, and she could see their grudging acceptance of that. "With Maka's display, you can be rest assured that I am telling the truth. I recognized her soul when I saw it, and so I have been helping her to unlock that potential."

"I knew you weren't working with him voluntarily," Kilik said suddenly, snapping his fingers. "No one works with Stein of their own free will."

"These rogues were targeting Maka for her ability?" Tsubaki asked. "For her soul?"

"In a way. Grigori souls are notoriously difficult to find; one of the only ways to be certain is to force them to reveal their gifts. Threatening the Grigori soul's safety can be one way of finding out if they possess the ability."

"The night you were attacked," Kilik said, putting two and two together. "You did something like that then."

"What I would have paid to see that!" Black*Star said. "You sent that bastard flying, didn't you?"

"I suppose I did," Maka said, lowering the handkerchief to speak. "I only wanted him to leave me alone."

"I had a feeling something had happened that night," Kim said. "That's why you went to speak to Stein."

"I found out what I was that evening," Maka said. "I had been seeing souls before then, but I didn't know what they were, and I didn't know how to control my ability."

"That doesn't seem to be a problem now," Nygus said, looking up as though the aether was still there, painting the rafters in color.

"Relatively speaking," Soul said, still looking slightly unhappy. "You aren't trying that again, by the way."

"It's not your soul," Maka muttered petulantly.

"No, but since you seem to have acquired some sort of death wish, the responsibility of your safety falls to me."

"As touching as this exchange is," Kilik said loudly, "I still don't see how the spider fits into all this."

"That is not any normal automaton," Maka said, her voice stronger as her strength gradually returned. "That one had a soul."

"A soul? Impossible!" Ox scoffed.

Kim cuffed him in the back of the head. "She lit the whole warehouse up and you're still doubting her?!"

Ox opened his mouth to retort, but one searing look from Kim and he was cowed into silence.

"It did," Maka confirmed. "It looked so sick and polluted, like someone had tampered with it. And… it asked for my help. So I released it."

Liz made a small noise, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. "I can't believe it," she said quietly through her fingers. "The rumors were true."

"What rumors?" Stein asked. "Can you shed light on who might be behind this?"

"Arachne," Patti said abruptly, looking uncharacteristically grave. "The mother of spiders."

"That's the name a friend of mine mentioned," Maka replied, "but she wouldn't go into any detail."

"I'm not surprised," Liz said. "Arachne isn't someone you want to know about."

"What's so special about her, then?" Black*Star asked. "She can't be that great; I haven't heard of her."

"Be thankful for that," Liz replied sharply. "Arachne is _not_ someone you want to get involved with."

"But the spider, you're sure it's hers?" Mira asked.

"Spiders are her trademark. There were rumors that she wasn't satisfied, that she was looking for something else to add to them. I'd even heard something about giving them life, perhaps even souls of their own, but I never believed them. But after today, I suppose it's all true."

"Arachne," Sid said slowly. "You can't mean - the Marchioness of Cassis?"

"That's what makes her so dangerous," Liz confirmed. "That woman holds more power than someone with her inclinations should. She's untouchable, and she always gets what she wants."

"Not always," Soul said stubbornly. His hand had found its way to Maka's shoulder, and he squeezed it reassuringly. "It doesn't matter to me if she has her eye set on Maka; she won't have her." Maka tried and failed to ignore the shiver his touch sent down her spine.

"But why does she want Maka?" Nygus asked. "What use would she have for her soul?"

Stein's answer was chilling. "Maka has the ability to manipulate souls, to pull them from others and push them elsewhere. If Arachne wants souls in inanimate machinery, she needs Maka's gift to do so."

Bile rose in Maka's throat as fear began to claw at her stomach. "No. I cannot… I could never…" The weight of what Arachne's success would mean pressed against her chest like a vise.

"Which is why we must make sure she does not have that chance," Stein finished.

"Now hold on a minute!" Ox blustered. "Shouldn't we be discussing this?"

"What's there to discuss?" Soul said dangerously, his voice low. "Maka's in danger. She's one of us and she needs our help."

"She's lied to us this entire time!" Ox shot back, pointing an accusing finger at her. "She is putting us all in danger! I never asked to be involved in her affairs."

"You did when you joined Spartoi," Soul shot back. "When something involves one of us, it involves us all."

"Since when have you cared so much for your fellow teammate?" Ox sneered. "You never gave a damn until she walked in-"

"That is a _bloody lie_-"

"Boys!" Sid's booming voice had both racer's jaws snapping shut, though it did not stop them from glaring at each other. "Both of you mention valid points - do _not_ look at me like that, Soul - and this does warrant further discussion."

Maka remained stock still, hands clutching the stained handkerchief in her lap. Her fate seemed to hang in the balance of one conversation, and she didn't want to risk swaying the decision against her.

The last person Maka ever expected to defend her - _well, perhaps not the last_, she thought as she stole a sideways glance as Ox - spoke up. "I do not think I can impress upon you enough the importance of keeping Maka out of Arachne's hands," Stein said. "We cannot allow her this ability, as there is no telling what havoc she may wreak with it."

"Not to mention Maka herself," Soul said sharply. "She is Spartoi as much as you or I. Surely that calls for our help, at the very least."

"From what I've heard of Arachne, she is the last person you want to give Maka's power to," Liz said. "And I agree with Soul. She is one of us, and I stand with her."

Patti nodded and shot Maka a beaming grin, one which Maka returned heartily. Their words pushed the fear farther and farther from her heart, though it still remained, pulsing faintly in the background.

"I stand with Maka as well," Kilik said, voice clear and confident. "We can't simply abandon her because circumstances grow difficult." He surveyed the others, his gaze more critical than usual. "What do the rest of you have to say?"

"Leave a follower behind?" Black*Star said. "Never!"

"I am with Maka as well," Tsubaki added. "She is my friend and I am happy to help when she needs me."

"We're at a majority now," Nygus said. "That is enough to take action."

"No!" Maka said suddenly. Her cheeks flushed as everyone's gaze turned to her. "I only meant - I do not want to force anyone to do something they don't wish to do. Whether you'd like to help or not, it's your choice."

Kim's face was unreadable as she looked at her. "We didn't ask to be involved in something so dangerous, you know."

Maka met her gaze directly. "Neither did I."

Kim stared at her for a moment, then laughed suddenly. "Fair enough. Very well, I'm with you."

"And I'm with Kim," Jackie said.

And then there were two. Ox glared defiantly at anyone who dared to make eye contact with him, while Harvar looked as calm and collected as he always did. Maka did not want to ask what they were thinking.

Harvar, surprisingly, was the first to speak. "I had my reservations about you, Maka, but you are one of us. And I've no desire to see this Arachne hold your power, so yes, I'll stand by you."

Ox turned red in the face as he gaped at his partner. "You - how can you-" His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. His eyes darted around the room, seeking support where there was none. Maka, for all her dislike, found herself pitying him.

His gaze hardened and his spine straightened suddenly. "I cannot in good conscience condone this," he announced. "Do what you will, but I will not be joining you." With that, he took his exit, his footsteps slapping against concrete as he stormed out, the hallway door slamming shut with a loud bang.

"I wasn't anticipating that," Kim said, troubled. "Ox is stubborn, yes, but he can usually be made to see reason."

Maka stood up then, a half-formed idea taking shape in her mind. Soul's hand hovered near her elbow, but any fatigue from her display before was long gone. "Let me go after him," she said.

"That may not be wise," Sid cautioned.

"I know. But I think it's past time I find out why he dislikes me so. I've a feeling there is more to this than what he says."

"Then turn right down the hallway and try the third door on the left. He likes to keep an armchair and a few books in there; I'll warrant that's where he'll be," Nygus advised.

"Here's hoping I don't make things worse," Maka said in a weak attempt at a joke. Tsubaki smiled kindly at her, and suddenly she found herself not nearly as anxious as she had been. For too long Ox had sneered at and dismissed her; it was time to confront him once and for all.

She did indeed find him in the room Nygus had directed her to, though he looked much too on edge for reading. He was staring down at the floor, hands clasped in front of his mouth, looking far less pompous than she had ever seen him.

He looked up as she entered, and his face quickly twisted into a snarl. "Get out. I've no desire to talk to you now, or ever."

"Why?" She took a step forward and pulled back the ottoman in front of him to serve as her chair. "You've disliked me ever since I joined, and I don't believe it's because of what happened outside of the warehouse. I'd like to know why."

He stared at her disbelievingly, then shook his head and snorted derisively. "Of course you have no idea. Why would you? You know nothing."

"Then enlighten me," she said sharply. "I can't understand what you refuse to tell me."

Ox looked torn, and for a moment, Maka almost believed he might refuse. Eventually he sighed and said, "You have no idea what you are, do you?"

Maka gave him a confused look. "I thought we established that? I'm a Grigori soul-"

"No, not that," Ox said, waving his hand impatiently. "I'm referring to the races."

Maka's mind was blank. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"You're a legacy, and you don't even know it. We both are."

"A legacy?"

"Your mother was involved in the races in some way, even if she wasn't a rider. Though with a cycle like that, why wouldn't she," he added in a bitter undertone.

"You're… upset with me because of my axel?"

"How could I not be? I have worked every day in my life to try and live up to the legacy my father left, and one day you waltz in with a modified axel and no earthly idea about how the races work, but that hardly seems to matter because you're winning," he spat. "You cannot imagine the hours others put in to achieve half the success that simply falls into your lap. So yes, I resent you, but you cannot blame me for that."

Maka blinked, struck dumb by his outburst. "Your father was a racer?"

"One of the best there was. And I'm expected to live up to that."

No wonder he disliked her. Maka had never once felt guilty about her mother's modifications, but now that she saw them through another's eyes, she wondered if they really were the gift she'd thought them to be. How Ox must have hated her, parading her inheritance around as she had! While Maka had received an advantage, Ox was constantly carrying the burden of expectation, something that must have killed him every time he laid eyes on her cycle. But what was she supposed to do? Not race on the one thing that connected her to her mother? She couldn't bear the thought of racing with anything else - and she shouldn't have to. "You're trying to live up to your father," she said, watching his face carefully.

He snorted. "Of course."

"Why?"

He spluttered for a few seconds before answering. "Why? What do you mean, why? My father was one of the best racers on the circuit and I carry his name. It's my duty to carry on his legacy."

"For him? Or for you?"

"Just - what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying you are your own person. Spartoi seems to think you're good enough, so why can't you believe the same? You might even find you enjoy racing more because of it. I can't imagine racing for something other than yourself; it can't be terribly enjoyable, can it? You're a brilliant racer, Ox. Why don't you let yourself believe that?"

He gaped at her. Maka felt slightly self-conscious under his stare, but she sat still, waiting for his reply. Those words were all she had - if he still hated her after this, there was nothing she could do.

"I wish you hadn't said that," Ox said suddenly, shaking his head. Maka's blood ran cold and her gut squeezed tight. She had destroyed any chance of having Ox on her side, she just knew it! "I was determined to hate you for all eternity, but how can I when you say things like that?"

"My words were never meant to guilt you into anything," Maka said cautiously, her insides relaxing slightly. "I only want to come to an understanding."

"Oh thank heavens. I thought you were trying to become _friends_."

Maka laughed. "Would colleagues do?"

"I suppose. I still heartily dislike that cycle of yours."

"That is fair enough, I think." She hesitated, wanting to ask that one important question, but Ox still seemed indifferent to the whole affair.

"I may not like you, Maka, but I believe Stein is right about Arachne. I will do what I can." He looked at her slyly. "That is what you wanted to hear, yes?"

Maka's cheeks went pink. "As relieved as I am to hear it, I didn't intend-"

"Yes, yes, you mentioned," Ox said, dismissing her comment. "Now I suppose Sid and Nygus will want some sort of plan…" He stood up and pulled the door open for her, standing aside to allow her through. They didn't speak as they walked to the common room, but when all eyes turned to them, Maka nodded and Ox heaved a great sigh. "I've been roped into this same as you," he announced. "Though it was under great duress."

Kilik snorted. "Don't sell me a dog," he mumbled.

Ox was about to retort when Stein cut him off. "It seems we are in agreement regarding the importance of Maka's protection, and so we may move forward. Now the first item we must discuss: Maka's visibility. Do we pull her from the races to protect her?"

"No!" The word burst from Maka's lips as though it had a life of her own. "You can't!"

"We know how passionate you are about racing," Nygus said sympathetically. "But you have to realize what a risk that is."

"I know," Maka said, mind racing as she tried to find some excuse to allow her to stay. "But… if I disappear, won't Arachne keep looking for other Grigori souls? What if she finds one less knowledgeable than I? I'd imagine it would be better to keep her focus here, where we're prepared and know what to expect."

Soul leaned in close as management took in her words. "Very impressive reasoning, considering you made it up on the spot."

"I did not!" she replied indignantly.

Soul hummed and pulled away, his eyebrows raised in a way that clearly said he did not believe her.

"You bring up a valid point," Stein conceded, drawing her attention back to the others. "I will contact Lord Death and we will discuss this further. In the meanwhile, you cannot stay in your home any longer, as Arachne now knows where you reside."

Maka swallowed hard; the fact that Arachne knew her identity had been pushed into the back of her mind, but now that he'd brought it up, Maka's anxiety surged a little. "I'm not sure my father will allow it," she said hesitantly. "I understand why it would be necessary, but I don't know if it would be possible."

"I would not concern yourself with that," Stein said dismissively. "I'll have a word with him today, and Sid can have a room within the warehouse prepared by tomorrow evening."

He said it so casually, Maka nearly missed the implication. "You… know my father? But… how?" The idea that the two men were acquainted, that the baron and the mad scientist knew each other well enough to hold such a conversation - it pushed the limits of what Maka would believe, which, considering the events of the past month or so, was saying quite a lot.

"We are what you might call old friends," Stein replied, but the way his lips twitched suggested something entirely different.

Maka's mind churned furiously as it worked to process this information. "Then that would mean… you knew who I was this entire time!"

"I did, yes."

"Why did you not say anything?"

"You desired anonymity. Though I do think the time for that has long since passed, wouldn't you agree?"

"Not entirely, but you seem intent on forcing my hand," Maka said through gritted teeth. Yes, she had seriously considered revealing the truth on her own, but Stein had taken that decision from her, and it irritated her to no end.

"Not more secrets," Ox groaned, though he sounded more resigned than annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Maka said, looking to each member around her. "I didn't mean any harm by hiding my name. I only wanted anonymity, something you seem to prize as well."

"She has a point Ox," Kim said, poking at his arm. "After all, we don't know your true name, do we?"

Ox shook his head. "I suppose so."

"I did mean to tell you soon," Maka admitted. She fiddled with her skirts and tried to ignore the fluttered racing of her heart. It would not be the end of the world if they knew who she truly was, she reminded herself. They had already proved their loyalty to her several times over, hadn't they? A new determination had her looking up and saying confidently, "My full name is Maka Albarn."

To some, her name meant nothing. But to others… "Albarn. As in… _Baron Albarn?_" Soul asked, eyes bugging out.

"Hellfire and damnation, you're a baroness?!" Black*Star asked in disbelief.

Kilik let out a low whistle. "Well I'll be damned. I was not expecting that."

To Maka's surprise, Kim merely shrugged. "I guessed something of the sort."

"You - how?!" Maka cried.

"Soft hands," Patti chimed in. "Got no callouses."

"Don't forget the rosewater," Jackie reminded her. "You always smell faintly of rosewater."

"You can hide your name, but you can't hide your breeding," Kim said.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was your business, not mine. Though we had a grand time discussing it." She smiled wide, gesturing to Liz, Patti, Jackie, and Tsubaki.

"You gossiped about me?"

Kim shrugged. "What else is there to do here?"

Thankfully, Black*Star, Kilik, Ox, and Soul seemed as surprised as she'd been expecting. Harvar, of course, looked as neutral as he always did. "I hope this doesn't change your opinion of me, or your decision to stand with me," Maka said, adressing her teammates.

"Why would it?" Soul asked. "Your name isn't why you joined, and your name isn't what makes you."

"Well, she's a little richer now," Black*Star pointed out. "And don't forget the power!"

"That's exactly why I decided to conceal it," Maka said. "And now Arachne knows who I am, imagine how she might use this against me. That's why I don't want to go into hiding or wait until she makes her move. I want to be at the races, showing her that she can't intimidate me."

Black*Star grinned. "Now that is a plan of action I can work with!"

"We must still be cautious," Tsubaki warned. "We cannot underestimate her."

"I will second that," Liz said fervently. "Treading carefully is our best option."

"Lord Death will take this into account," Stein said. "For now, all we can do is wait for his word." He scooped the spider up from the table and cradled it against his chest. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be looking further into this. Miss Thompson, if you would be so kind as to assist me?"

Liz made a face, but nodded; she and Patti both followed him out of the common room. Their exit seemed to signal the others, who broke apart into their own conversations as the meeting ended. Sid and Nygus disappeared into the office, no doubt to discuss what might happen next.

"I don't much like your plan," Soul said from next to her.

"I didn't think you would. But you must admit it makes sense."

"I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Aw, quit your blubbering." Black*Star clapped his friend on the back. "It's about time something exciting happened around here."

"You _must_ have a death wish," Kim scoffed as she joined them.

"Can't; not when you're as strong as I am!" Black*Star boasted.

"I suppose it's a good thing you're on our side, then," Jackie said from beside her partner.

"Black*Star may sound bold, but I know that we can overcome this," Tsubaki said. She gave Maka a warm smile. "Maka is Spartoi, after all. We are a team and we will support you however we can. If Arachne wants your soul, she will have to go through us first."

"Thank you, Tsubaki," Maka said. Her heart felt like it might grow wings and burst from her chest, she was so happy and relieved. A heavy weight had just been lifted from her shoulders, and despite the danger she knew she would soon be facing, she was quite content with her lot at the moment.

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

nimmer: the lowest kind of thief

don't sell me a dog: don't lie to me


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Whatever Stein had said to her father, it worked, because he conceded to her temporary departure (albeit tearfully and with no small amount of scolding over her joining the races in the first place). He hovered uselessly in the doorway as he watched her pack, hands aflutter with the need to help, though Maka would have none of it. Blair had done her best to distract him, but despite the Baron's love for beautiful women, he could not be dissuaded from seeing his daughter off.

"Are you entirely sure about this?" he asked her for the hundredth time.

"You're the one who agreed in the end," Maka reminded him. "I'm not safe here; at least in the warehouse I'll constantly have someone near me."

Her father's face twisted into the scowl as he muttered, "Near Stein."

"I don't understand your animosity," Maka said, rifling through her armoire. She skimmed past the silk skirts and ruffled dresses, opting instead for the rough linen shirts she'd hoarded over the past few months. High-society apparel would do her no good within the warehouse and the streets of Kentish Town. "He was the one who convinced you to let me stay."

Spirit was silent for a long moment; given his propensity for words, this was quite a feat. Never before had she seen him look so conflicted, but he would not elaborate his reason, opting instead to say, "Promise your papa you will be careful. You're strong like your mother, but there are things out there-"

"I know," Maka said. "I know what's out there. I've seen it."

"I wish you hadn't," he said quietly, and again he looked more serious than she had ever seen him. "You deserve so much more than this, Maka."

"Deserve what?" she asked, smoothing out a pair of trousers. "A house that isn't really mine? A husband who only loves my title, my dowry? I don't like the situation any more than you do, but my choices are my own. _That_ is what I deserve."

Their gazes locked then, but as her father's piercing blue eyes searched her face, Maka had the creeping feeling that it wasn't her he was seeing. A lump grew in her throat and she swallowed hard to clear it. "I should be leaving soon. They'll be expecting me," she said quietly.

Spirit snapped back from wherever he had been and bounded forward to snatch up her bag. "If that madman Stein ever gets too close with that scalpel of his, you tell your papa immediately," he said, and he launched into a tirade about what exactly would happen should anyone dare to lay their hands on his precious daughter. Years of practice made it simple to tune him out, and his voice soon faded into the background as she descended the steps to the front door.

Blair was waiting in the entranceway, wearing her usual playful smile. "Miss Maka will tell Blair if anything happens," she said, the order sounding unusual coming from her. "And Blair will keep her ears to the ground while Miss Maka is away."

"Thank you, Blair," Maka said, cutting her father off mid-rant. "For everything."

"Miss Maka can thank Blair when this is all over," Blair dismissed, taking Maka's bag. "Surely this is not all Miss Maka is bringing?"

Maka shook her head and gave a sheepish smile. "I have a trunk upstairs."

"Miss Maka will not need that many books," Blair scolded, wagging a finger at her. "Miss Maka has friends to talk to, and a _very_ handsome-"

"That is _quite_ enough," Maka said loudly, shooting an anxious glance over her shoulder at her father, who mercifully had not heard Blair's comment. "And you have never met him before, how could you possibly know that-"

"Miss Maka just said so," Blair said smugly, turning in her heel to lead her charge outside to the carriage.

"I - you didn't - Blair!" Maka sputtered as she scurried after her.

"Blair has never seen Miss Maka get so flustered over a man before. Especially not the ones her father brings to visit. Blair would like to meet Miss Maka's partner, that is all." The mischievous spark in her maid's eye said otherwise.

"That will never happen if Miss Maka - I mean, if I, have anything to say about it," Maka said, wishing she could blame her flushed cheeks on the cold.

Blair pouted, then quickly shrugged it off. "Then let us hope you don't!"

"You are incorrigible," Maka muttered.

"Maybe so. But Miss Maka has dawdled long enough," she said, flapping her hands to shoo her into the carriage.

"I wasn't - you were the one who-" But Blair was already bustling back inside to supervise the collection of Maka's trunk, and she was left alone in the carriage. Blair's tinkling laughter drifted out the door and even though Maka was still a little irritated at the one-sided conversation that had just occurred, she knew she would miss her pushy, meddlesome maid in the coming weeks.

Despite the fuss that had ensued during Maka's packing, her departure from Number 13 and arrival at the Spartoi warehouse went relatively smoothly. Soul, as predicted, ridiculed her at great length for bringing as many books as she had, but the rug was pulled violently out from under him when Black*Star "lost his grip" on one end of the trunk and brought it crashing down squarely on his friend's foot. Even Maka could not contain her giggles, no matter how darkly Soul glared at her afterwards.

Maka found herself with ample time on her hands, as she was the only one without a job outside of Spartoi to keep her busy. But she still had plenty of company, as most of her teammates chose to spend their days off at the warehouse; even Ox sometimes skulked in the shadows during his rare free time.

Maka began to look forward to these occasions: learning how to throw a punch from Kilik and Black*Star, ridiculing high society with Kim and Jackie, learning of Tsubaki's homeland, losing abysmally to Harvar at cards. When the racers were otherwise occupied with their work, the Thompsons could be counted on to be in their workshop. Liz could be nosy and Patti was eccentric, but the girls were friendly and always receptive to questions. Occasionally the two would fall into a kind of trance as they worked, falling deaf to any outside noise, and it was during these moments that Maka chose to make her exit to find entertainment in her books.

She also had taken to exploring the old warehouse, as there were plenty of rooms she had yet to see. Most, of course, were storerooms or abandoned zeppelin workrooms, but Spartoi had commandeered a few extra spaces for personal use. There was, of course, Ox's library, which Maka secretly perused on the days he worked - whatever peace they had established, she had a feeling it would not extend towards his books. They were dry, boring things anyway, written by dry, boring old men puffed up on the illusion of their own importance. Why Ox preferred them Maka would never understand.

There was also a small room tucked into the very corner of the warehouse that housed nothing more than a small, unassuming piano. Maka knew instantly that it was Soul's, and though she sat down a few times to try and play the tunes that her tutors had taught her, she could never emulate the melodies they had produced. Maka's mind was one of logic and academia, not rhythm and harmony. That, it seemed, was Soul's domain.

The man himself seemed to frequent the warehouse more than usual, prompting Maka to ask why he didn't spend his most of his days at the gentlemen's club like she expected. Soul simply waved his hand in reply and said, "I'm not the only pianist on their payroll. I wonder why they don't just use an autopiano, but I think the owner is something of an auto-phobe."

Maka nodded in understanding. There was a relatively small group in London who viewed the omnipresent automatons with fear and revulsion. Maka didn't hold to their beliefs, of course, as there was no evidence to support any of their preposterous claims.

Still, Maka would not be swayed from the topic she'd latched upon. "Surely you could still request more hours. It seems silly for you to pursue a second line of work, only to spend most of your time in idleness."

"Is this your none-too-subtle way of telling me to scarper?" Soul asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"No, not at all! I'm only asking because I'd like to ensure that you aren't decreasing your hours to keep me company. I know I've complained of boredom, but really, I'm perfectly fine on my own."

"You flatter yourself," Soul replied, but his words were light instead of cruel. "I'm not here because I'm trying to entertain you, only that I don't much care for the club. Besides, playing the same songs every day is tedious," he said, shrugging.

"Do you compose?" Maka asked curiously, setting her chin in her hand. A flash of pale blue skin caught her eye, and she peered over Soul's shoulder just in time to see Sid's head pop back into the office. Sadly, it hadn't been the first time she'd caught him sneaking a glimpse at the two racers, and her ears went pink. The implication that this was a meeting that required chaperoning horrified her to say the least.

Soul, whose back was to the office, hadn't noticed, thankfully. He shifted a little and wouldn't meet her eye as he said, "I do, at times."

Maka sat up, a gleam in her eye. "Do you really? You must play for me!"

Soul snorted. "I will do no such thing."

"Why not? I found an old piano in one of the back rooms, I'm sure it's sufficient enough-"

If the piano was indeed Soul's, he gave no indication of it. "The issue is not a lack of piano, only a lack of resolve."

Maka tried to argue the point with him, but Soul stubbornly refused to back down. She deflated a little and tried to ignore the voice that asked her just why she thought he would make an exception for her.

She sighed and changed the subject, much to her partner's relief. "Well, at least the race tonight will provide a nice change of pace for me."

"You've entered?" Soul asked, and she did not much like the look on his face.

"Of course I've entered. I'm not going to let Arachne scare me into hiding, and I certainly won't let her take the races from me!"

"I know we established that, yes, but I'm still not sure it's the safest idea."

"You never struck me as the type to worry about what was safe."

This seemed to throw him off for some reason. "Yes, but it's not only me I have to worry about, is it? Not when I have a partner who seems hell-bent in throwing herself headlong into the most dangerous situations possible."

"I am not!"

"Pardon me, but I think your judgment is clouded."

"Lord Death agreed with my idea," she sniffed.

"Yes, but you've never actually met the man. His agreement isn't much of a vote of confidence."

Maka squared her shoulders. "You can't stop me from racing."

"I never said I would."

"But-"

"All I've ever said was I didn't like it, not that I wouldn't go along."

"I suppose I'll save you the time and assume that's your response to any plan of action I come up with, then."

"Getting cheeky there, Ms. Albarn. Oh, I'm sorry, it's _Lady_ Albarn, isn't it?"

"_Don't_ call me that," Maka said, a little harsher than she'd meant. Soul's brows drew together at her tone and she corrected herself. "I'm sorry, but this is the very reason I didn't want anyone to know. Suddenly I'm not Maka anymore, I'm Lady Albarn, and I never wanted that. I only ever wanted you to see me."

"I see you," Soul said. "We all do."

"Well, here's hoping Arachne does as well," Maka said resolutely.

Soul groaned and buried his head in his hands. "This is not going to end well."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Soul wasn't quite right in his prediction.<p>

"-see anything?" The combined roar of axel engines and the restless crowd nearly drowned out his words, but Maka could still infer his meaning. He balanced perfectly on the stirrups of his axel and he craned his neck to scan the masses gathered, but Maka knew it was an exercise in futility. All of Spartoi was on the lookout that night, but there was no telling how Arachne's influence might exert itself.

Maka pointed this out to Soul. "None of us know what to look for; I could be staring right at the next rogue and I'd never know!"

Soul paused and gave her a strange look. "Ye-es," he said slowly. "You would. Maka, you can _actually_ see people's souls. What's the problem again?"

Maka gaped at him stupidly, then kicked herself for not thinking of it before - though maybe it was understandable, considering her last encounter with the aether. Quickly she called out and summoned her soul perception, but when she opened her eyes, she nearly fell over.

"Maka!" Soul cursed as his hand darted out to right her. "Everything alright?"

"Yes," Maka panted as she planted her feet firmly on the ground. "That is just - a lot of people." She blinked hard, her vision streaked with blue. The glow was bright, like trying to look into the sun. Never before had she purposely used her soul perception in a crowd of this size, and she never would again if she could help it.

"Is it too much?" Soul asked, scanning the crowd as he tried to envision what she saw.

Maka blinked again and squinted, dimming the souls down to a more bearable tone. "No." She wrapped her fingers tightly around the axel grips as she centered herself. "I can do this."

Soul didn't look like he entirely believed her, but regardless, he pulled away to give her space. Maka swiveled her head left and right, eyes watering as she scanned the crowd. Anything blue was ignored; all she needed was the red.

To her relief, the colors faded out as her goal became clearer. She didn't want every soul, only that one, that sickly red that didn't belong…

What she found instead was a cross of the two. Maka stiffened as her soul perception latched onto a sickly-looking flash of purple that hovered at the fringes of the crowd. There, by the side alley! A slim figure shrouded in a pitch-black cloak stood completely still, the figure's face hidden entirely within the hood.

Soul took note of her change in demeanor and leaned in. "You've seen something."

"Near the alley by Twyford Road," she murmured by his ear, just barely tugging down her collar so he could hear. "Black cloak. But something's wrong with his soul… it's similar to the spider in a way, but different. I'm not sure."

"Do you want to go after him? I know we're registered, but this is more important." Soul's fingers tapped an irregular beat on the metal steering column as he waited for her decision.

"I… don't know. What do you think?" Everyone kept leaving the decisions up to her, as though Maka had all the answers. Granted, not having them wasn't something she liked to admit, and she _was_ the one with the Grigori soul, but that didn't mean everything had to be left to her. She was just as lost as the rest of them sometimes.

Soul, who had spotted the figure by then, narrowed his eyes and chewed on his lip. "Hmm. I say we wait. If Arachne's sent someone to keep an eye on you, he'll most likely stay the whole race. We can decide what to do afterwards. If we do move now we might draw more attention than we want, anyway."

Maka nodded. "Then I agree."

Waiting, of course, would be easier said than done. Anxiety scratched at her skin like a wool blanket and made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle with unease. Her soul perception faded, but the uncertainty remained. Someone was indeed there, watching her. He had to be connected to Arachne, for who else would carry with them such a tainted soul?

The question now: what was she to do about it?

Maka could barely focus on the race; her movements were fueled only by muscle memory as her mind churned. That soul… it hadn't looked quite as sick as the spider, but that didn't mean it didn't still need her help. The thought startled her - help a man who was sent after her soul? But the afterimage of the warped, purple ball of light hovered in her mind and the answer was clear: yes. How could she not help a sickly soul like that? But the last time she had pulled from metal; this time the soul was housed in live human flesh. Could she do that - look someone in the eye while she ripped their soul from their body? She didn't think there was a way to cleanse tainted souls, no way to purge the darkness that had infected it. What else could she do then but release it completely?

Her preoccupation nearly cost her her safety as a league racer nearly clipped her side. Soul pulled up as she swerved away, his red eyes wide behind the clear glass of his goggles. _Are you alright?_ he mouthed to her.

Maka's head moved in some strange combination of a nod and a shake. Soul looked at her bemusedly before revving his engine and pulling forward; he still looked at her as though asking, _You coming?_

Shaking herself from her morbid thoughts, Maka's brows drew together as she pressed against her axel and shot forward. Soul led her on, finding all the gaps and clear spaces she needed to pull along to the front. But Maka's distraction cost them first and second, as Harvar and Kilik beat them to it.

Kilik watched them warily as they pulled to a stop in front of them. "Something's amiss."

Soul pulled off his cap and tossed it to him before dismounting. "Someone's here," he said. Maka mimicked his actions, though she kept her gear on. It seemed somewhat redundant now, given the number of people who knew who she was, but Maka still preferred not to add to the count.

"How do you know?" Harvar asked.

"I saw his soul and something's very wrong with it. I want to go see for myself."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Kilik asked.

"Is anything we decide to do wise?" Maka shrugged. "We've been one step behind this entire time; I can't stand not knowing what's going on. I, for one, want some answers, and won't stand by waiting for them to fall into my lap."

Kilik shrugged, a faint smile playing on his face. "I can't argue with that. Do you need anyone else?"

"Soul and I will go. We won't be far."

"Keep an eye on our axels, and us if you can manage it. And let the others know what's going on," Soul ordered, tightening the straps on his gloves.

"Will do," Kilik said. "You get us those answers."

Maka nodded sharply and turned back to the crowd gathered behind her at the finish. The figure in black was still by the alley, but as she watched, he turned abruptly and slipped into the shadows.

"Over there!" Maka pointed as she pushed her way into the crowd, squeezing through what gaps she could and throwing elbows when there were none. Soul followed in her wake and soon they popped out onto the sidewalk and crept over to the alley.

Soul's hand on her elbow stopped Maka in her tracks. "Have to be careful," he murmured in her ear. "Startle him and we lose our lead."

"Would you rather we stay here and let him escape?" Maka shot back. She ignored his hissed protest behind her and darted into the passage, Soul hot on her heels.

The alley was narrow, cracked and stained brick rising up on either side of them. The ground beneath Maka's feet was rough and uneven, but her balance remained steady even as she skidded to a halt before the cloaked figure. They had whirled around to meet them, hood falling back to reveal a gaunt face topped with wispy pink hair. Startlingly pale periwinkle eyes bored into hers, equal parts frantic and… almost resigned.

But the person couldn't have been older than her, Maka thought. Judging from the way the fabric hung off their skinny frame, they were malnourished as well. Surely she'd made a mistake; a child as young and neglected as they were couldn't work for Arachne.

A quick check with soul perception told her that no, she hadn't. Her watcher's soul was a sickly purple, but not in the way the spider's had looked. This wasn't blue and red fighting separately, this was an equal blending of color spread throughout a misshapen, cowering soul.

_What has she done to you?_

The person - Maka couldn't tell whether they were male or female - began to mumble to themselves. "Not supposed to be seen. Watch only. Can't take. Not strong enough. Only a watcher."

"What the devil are they saying?" Soul said quietly, coming up beside her. He curled his fingers around her arm cautiously.

"I've no idea," Maka answered, mystified. His fingers were warm through the cloth of her shirtsleeve, and some part of Maka's mind knew it was improper for him to touch her so freely.

_But you've long since crossed that line, haven't you?_ a part of her needled. Maka shoved the thought away; he was only this close because of the watcher in front of her. Soul was simply keeping on guard, ready to pull her away should tensions grow too high.

Meanwhile, the figure continued to mumble on as they watched Maka warily. "She pushes. Can't push. Only pull. Want to push. Can't push. I pull. She pushes. Wanted him to push. Couldn't. Want her to push. Can she? Need to take her. Can't take her. I watch."

"Whatever they're saying, I don't like the sound of it," Soul said, hand tightening in anxiety.

Maka pried him off gently. "They haven't done anything yet." Besides, there was something about them that drew her in, that made her lower her defenses in a way that spider hadn't. Perhaps it was the fact that this was a living person, or maybe it was the distress in their eyes. Maka felt for them suddenly, and knew that she had to help them, whatever it took.

"Doesn't mean they won't," Soul said quietly. But he didn't try to pull her back again, only remained close by her side.

"Are you alright?" Maka asked softly, one hand outstretched much like the way one would do for a wild animal. "Do you need help? I could try-"

The watcher shied away, hands held out to ward Maka off. "Not supposed to see," they said frantically. "Had to be quiet. Why's she here? Can't see me. Could take her. Can't take her. He's here. Don't know what to do. Don't know how to deal with this."

"Why don't you let me help?"

"Says I don't need help. I'm better. I'm stronger. Can almost do it. But can't. Need her."

The longer they spoke, the more the person's soul went wild. It flashed and pulsed to an unseen rhythm, twisting and folding in on itself in a way Maka had never seen before. They were working themselves into a frenzy with every word they said, and suddenly Maka saw a very dangerous potential in them.

"Maka," Soul said insistently. "I know you want to help, but now might not be the best time."

"What am I supposed to do, Soul-"

"Maka, look out-!"

But the figure wasn't springing forward, merely shrinking back. In the blink of an eye they had darted away through the alley, slipping between the shadows and no doubt slinking back to their master.

"That was terribly unhelpful," Soul muttered darkly, scowling into the gloom where Maka's watcher had disappeared.

"Perhaps not," she said slowly, rubbing her chin in thought. "What they said… it didn't make much sense to us, but perhaps if we all put our heads together we can piece something out of it."

"If you say so," Soul shrugged. With another glance around the alley he stepped aside to allow her exit, and they quickly rejoined their teammates behind the finish.

"You didn't lose him, did you?" Black*Star asked in disbelief, squinting at them as though they'd tucked the boy somewhere within their gear. "You should have waited for me, I could have knocked him flat in a second!"

"Calm down Black*Star, we only spoke to them," Maka said.

"If you could call it that," Soul added unhelpfully.

"They said some… bizarre things we can't interpret," Maka explained, nudging Soul in the ribs.

"So this person just talked at you and left?" Jackie asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, they more mumbled it, but essentially, yes."

"Are you sure they work for Arachne and hadn't just escaped Bedlam?"

"I'm sure," Maka said firmly. "Their soul… it's been tampered with. It might have something to do with the way they acted, but we can't even start to consider the possibilities until we get back to the warehouse."

"Alright then, princess," Black*Star said, his grin just a little too smug - though really, any grin of his could be considered smug.

"Do _not_ call me that." She scowled darkly at her friend, but Black*Star merely cackled and roared off, leaving the others to follow him back.

Sid and Nygus were waiting in the center of the common room as they pulled in. "Anything to report?" Sid asked once the garage door had shut. He looked to Maka as he said this, and despite her reluctance to make all the decisions, some part of her thrilled at having been recognized as the leader here.

"Arachne did send someone, but it was an… unusual encounter."

"How so?" Mira asked, brow knit in confusion.

"They spouted off nonsense then scarpered," Soul cut in, pulling his gloves off as he dismounted his axel.

"Their soul was wrong," Maka said, taking back the conversation. "That's why they were acting abnormal."

"What did they say?" Sid asked.

"Something about being able to pull, but not push. They also said they were only supposed to watch, but it was mostly the pushing and pulling."

"Arachne needs Maka for her soul, right?" Kim asked. "Could it have something to do with that?"

"It might," Maka said slowly, gaze far away as she thought about it. Arachne was performing experiments on souls; the spider was evidence of that. Perhaps she had progressed to human souls? That would explain the damage Maka had seen. She remembered the feeling of the soul in her hand, the colors warring back and forth, the thread-like tether tying the soul to its metal shell… and suddenly, in a burst of clarity, she found her answer. "That's it!"

The low buzz of speculation quieted at her outburst. "You figured it out?" Soul looked unsurprised.

"Maybe. But it all comes down to the soul, doesn't it? Pushing, pulling… perhaps it's all to do with moving souls."

"They said they could pull, but they could not push. You think they have some part of your ability? Tsubaki asked, eyebrows drawn in concern.

"What if Arachne's been trying to artificially create her own Grigori soul? It would certainly save her the trouble of trying to take me."

"This person… they're the result, aren't they?" Kilik said grimly. "But you think they can't do all that you can?"

"They said they could only pull, and I think they meant they could only pull souls. That would mean they have a partial Grigori soul, but that wouldn't be good enough for Arachne. That is why she needs me; I can _push_ them as well."

"But why would she need to push? Pulling souls sounds terrible enough." Kim shuddered at the thought.

"Someone had to put the soul in the spider, though, didn't they?" Ox said, catching on. "Wouldn't that be 'pushing' a soul, as you say?"

Maka pointed triumphantly at Ox. "Exactly. That person can take souls, but can't do anything with them. Arachne needs me to do that."

"And since it doesn't sound like she's close to succeeding with her own experiments, it appears that you are at more risk than we previously believed," Nygus said.

"It might be wise to keep you in the warehouse until we can deal with this situation," Sid said. "I was a cautious man before, and I have no plans to change that."

"No," Maka said stubbornly.

Soul gave her a look. "I know you want to race-"

"This has nothing to do with that," Maka insisted. "I told you before, if it's too difficult for Arachne to get at me, she'll start looking for other Grigori souls! Who knows what they know, or how well protected they are? This isn't about me, it's about what might happen if Arachne gets what she wants. I am tired of sitting around waiting for her to make the next move; I say we stand up and take the fight to her!"

"Yes!" Black*Star cried. "Finally, a plan with sense!"

"Oh yes, your support makes it sound completely foolproof," Jackie said in a deadpan.

"What are you proposing?" Ox asked skeptically. "We barge into her lair waving sticks around and demand that she stop at once?"

"I'd think it would be something more than sticks," Maka replied. Soul nearly choked on his own saliva so she hastened to add, "But no, that wasn't what I was suggesting."

"Then please, enlighten me."

"I want to speak with her face to face, to confront her in a public place where she can't come after me."

"I was lying about the others," Soul said with a pained look on his face. "_That_ is the worst idea you've had."

Maka ignored him. "I'm being serious. I need to show her that I'm not afraid, that she can't frighten me."

"While I appreciate the sentiment," Ox drawled, "is there an alternative where we _don't_ do that?"

"Maka may be right about this," Sid said slowly. "When I was a man, I would come across individuals like Arachne, and they don't just disappear. Sometimes it's better to take the offensive than to sit around and wait for retaliation."

"A public event would be best suited," Nygus mused, tapping one finger on her bandaged mouth. "Someplace we know Arachne will be, and somewhere we're also welcome."

"Oh, well, that's easy then, isn't it?" Kim said. Some met her with blank looks. "Honestly, you lot, I've only been talking about it for months! The League Ball? I know Arachne isn't a direct sponsor, but there's no way she has her fingers in that many pies and she doesn't attend."

Maka, who had not paid much attention to Kim whenever she brought up the ball, nodded. "That does sound ideal. When does it take place?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "Are you joking? It's in three days and none of you were aware of this?"

"To be fair, you can be long-winded when it comes to social affairs," Jackie pointed out, a teasing smile on her lips.

Kim pinked and elbowed her partner. "I don't recall asking you."

"I'm sure Lord Death would be more than happy to provide the proper attire for the event, after I inform him of this. Everything is pending his approval, you understand, but I can't see him disagreeing," Sid said. "I'll also let Stein know of this change in plans. If he has anything else to say regarding what Arachne's agent said, I will pass that along." Sid and Mira broke from the group, the latter crossing the room into the office, the former disappearing into the back hallway.

Excited chatter filled the common room as Spartoi began to discuss the upcoming ball. Kim looked absolutely ecstatic, while Jackie just smiled and shook her head at her partner's enthusiasm. Ox looked none too thrilled and Harvar spoke quietly to him, though whether to sympathise or persuade him otherwise, no one could tell. Kilik joked with Black*Star and Tsubaki, and Soul once again leaned in towards Maka. "You believe this is the best course of action?"

"I think so," Maka answered honestly, "but I'm not entirely sure."

"That is not encouraging," Soul groaned. "Here I was hoping to avoid this whole event altogether."

"A party thrown in the leagues' honor and you'd rather not attend?"

Soul shuddered. "Absolutely not. The true focus is the sponsors; it's when they get to rub elbows with their peers and show off their success. They don't give a damn about us."

"Surely it can't be as awful as you say. You have your friends, after all. And you'll have me!" Her eyes widened at the implication. Surely she hadn't just said that… had she?"

Soul's eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched. "Why, Ms. Albarn, are you offering to accompany me to the ball? I was under the assumption the man asked the woman."

"I am your partner," she spluttered. "I only thought…"

"It would be my honor to escort you," he said, but his devious smirk belied his words.

"You are insufferable!"

"And yet you asked me to the ball. Unless you didn't mean…" The teasing left his face suddenly and he looked more vulnerable than she'd anticipated.

What _did_ she mean by bringing it up? Why had she separated herself from the others? Yes, she was his partner, but this felt different. This felt… right.

"No," she said, her voice sounding squeakier than she'd hoped for. "I did mean it. I'll need someone to look out for me, won't I? After all, you seem so enthusiastic in pointing that out at every opportunity."

He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, but when he looked up, there was something she couldn't quite read in his eyes. "Very well, Ms. Albarn. I hope you own something red." He gave her another slow-curling smile, sending a tingle like lightning up her spine.

Black*Star burst into the conversation then, talking loudly of ballroom layouts and infiltration plans as he drew Soul's attention. As Tsubaki settled herself by Maka's side and asked what they had been talking of, Maka could not help the flush that spread across her face and neck.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

Bedlam: a famous insane asylum residing in London


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"You've been sneaking glances at her all morning."

Later, Soul would vehemently deny jumping a good foot in the air at Kilik's words. "I've no idea what you're talking about." This was, of course, a blatant lie. Soul had been stealing glances at the giggling girls across the room for the better part of an hour. Specifically, he had been stealing glances at one girl in particular. Maka's glittering green eyes crinkled at the edges as she laughed at something Tsubaki was saying, and Soul felt something in his stomach clench at the sight.

The dreadlocked racer sniggered as he took a seat next to Soul on one of the ratty couches in the common room. "Don't sell me a dog, Soul. It's unbecoming."

"You see a hound 'round here?" Soul growled. Almost against his will, his eyes darted back over to his partner to watch the way her mouth curled into a smile. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he cursed and tried to avert his gaze before Kilik could notice.

The boxer missed nothing. "You're worse than they are!"

Soul shot him his darkest glare. "I am not!"

"Is Soul mooning over his partner again?" Black*Star cut in, leaping over the back of an armchair to land heavily on the seat cushion, the rickety chair legs creaking ominously as they strained under the sudden weight.

"I am not mooning!"

"Says the man who has done nothing but fret over a _ball_," Kilik pointed out. "The only ones who have worried more about this than you are those girls over there, and that's only because they don't know what ribbons go best with their trim."

"Been worried about that yourself, then, have you?" Soul shot back, but it was a weak reply and they knew it.

"_She_ asked _you_, yeah?" Black*Star asked. "Then the problem's solved. Obviously she found something in that dull brain of yours worth keeping!"

"That's not -"

"Then what is?" Kilik interrupted. "Honestly, I've no idea what the fuss is all about. She asked you to escort her, and you are."

"You're overlooking the fact that she's my _partner_," Soul stressed. "It is entirely possible that's the only reason she asked."

"But you don't believe that," Kilik scoffed.

"Partners don't look at each other like that," Black*Star added. "I should know!"

Soul straightened up and eyed Tsubaki, who was still talking enthusiastically with Maka across the room. "Has Tsubaki said anything? About Maka, I mean?"

"Nope," Black*Star said, elongating the vowel as his lips popped. "As though I'm asking her," he added with a scoff, "cos I'm not mooning over -"

"I am not _mooning!_"

"Suit yourself." Black*Star shrugged. "If you're gonna keep running in circles, I'm off for more interesting things." With a loud cry, he launched himself from his chair and vanished, presumably to somewhere in the rafters.

"Twit," Soul muttered.

Kilik, however, persisted. "You know, saying something doesn't make it true. About the mooning, I mean."

"Will you just -"

"All I want to say is this: I know you care for Maka, and I can tell that Maka cares for you. I've known you for years now, and not once have I seen you grow this close to a person before. You should be careful."

"Are you telling me this to protect Maka?"

"To protect you both. I'm your friend, and I'm hers as well. I want to see you both happy - preferably with each other," he added with a smug grin.

"Oh, will you shove it?" Soul muttered.

"I will now," Kilik grinned. "I'll leave you to your staring."

"I was not…" Oh, who was he kidding? He'd most certainly been staring.

Kilik laughed at the pained look on his face and clapped him on the shoulder as he stood. "Accept it, brother. Lord knows it will make life easier on the rest of us!"

Soul lashed out with a half-hearted punch and Kilik dodged easily on his way over to join Harvar and Ox in a round of cards. Since he seemed unaffected by the scowl Soul was aiming at his back, the white-haired racer found his gaze once again turning towards his partner.

He _was_ over-thinking this, wasn't he? Perhaps it was the element of impending doom that had his nerves so on edge. Even still, the thought of accompanying Maka to the ball had his stomach twisting over and over; the sensation was not entirely unpleasant.

When exactly had she come to mean so much to him? How long ago it had been, when Meister was some faceless challenger to defeat, and had meant nothing more to him than the next solo. At least, he'd meant nothing until Stein had announced Spartoi's newest recruitment - then Soul had just gotten quietly angry. The races were being targeted by solos, and Lord Death wanted to invite one into their ranks?

Not if Soul had anything to say about it.

He couldn't keep Meister away, of course, but he could give him the cold shoulder well enough. The solo had been unexpectedly fierce, and then he had turned into a _she_. Still he kept his distance, because who really knew the girl they'd invited into their midst? It wasn't until he'd found her sitting on the dusty stock room floor clutching a book larger than her own head and staring eagerly at him with those big green eyes that he started to reconsider his opinion. No one who was up to no good would voluntarily subject themselves to some of Stein's light reading.

Grigori soul or not, he'd known there was something about her even before she'd tossed a man twenty feet without ever touching him. It should have sent him scrambling, really - but Maka was his partner and he'd sworn to watch out for her, and to him that meant sticking by her side, even when every perception he'd had of the world was turned upside down. Maka, as it turned out, held power some would kill for and she thought nothing of it. She was still strong and compassionate and stubborn; she still picked fights with Black*Star and she still eagerly talked with Thompsons whenever she had the chance.

She was the kind of person, Soul realized, that he wished he could be. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end for him. Like it or not, he was tied to Maka in more ways than one, but it had not quite sunk in how much until the League Ball had been introduced. Not only was she planning on confronting Arachne face to face, but she had also asked Soul to be by her side while she did so. He would have been there regardless of her asking, but somehow this felt different.

It was possible that he was imagining things, of course. Maka was a baron's daughter, and though she scoffed at the rules imposed by the social circles she belonged to, the same did not hold true for her father. He knew Baron Albarn was attempting to find her a husband, and the very thought made him sick to his stomach. Surely there was no way her father could find someone who even came close to deserving her - or could even handle her, because really, Maka Albarn was a blazing inferno with a stubborn heart and glittering green eyes.

A nasty little voice in his head scoffed. _You think you could deserve her? _

_No,_ he answered. _I don't think I do. But that's not the point. _

_Oh, I think it is. You want to own her like every other nobleman out there. You're just like them. You _are _them. _

_I want her to have the choice. I want her to be happy. Most of all, I want her to stop barrelling into half-formed plans while convincing everyone else it's the most sensible thing on earth. _

Soul knew talking her out of it was never going to happen. Hell, he could even see the logic behind her argument. But there was a small part of him that calculated anything and everything that could go wrong, and there were quite a few of those.

She was right about one thing, after all: this would all be over soon, one way or another.

* * *

><p>Maka was the only one not present at the warehouse on the night of the ball, but that wasn't cause for any concern. When Tsubaki had asked, Maka had shuffled her feet and mumbled something about having a dress at home. Soul had recalled his request with a smirk, prompting Maka's ears to go pink.<p>

One thing she did not have was a mask, for the League Ball was a masquerade. Since anonymity was prized among most racers, the sponsors respected their wishes, though they themselves preferred the fame and notoriety that came with sponsorship. The racers, then, would be identifiable by the masks they wore, making it easy to distinguish between the nobility and those they benefitted from.

It was for this reason that Soul sat in one of Lord Death's many carriages on his way to Maka's estate, a delicate red and black mask sitting on his lap. He played with the silk ribbons as the wheels bumped and rumbled underneath him, trying - and failing - to not think about the pair of eyes that would very soon be peering through the eyeholes. His own black velvet mask lay on the seat next to him, the design nearly identical to its counterpart. A matching set.

He hoped she wouldn't notice.

A choking cloud of steam preceded their arrival as the brakes were applied, and the carriage slowly glided to a stop. The curtains were drawn, blocking his view of the Albarn house, and suddenly Soul wanted nothing more than to remain where he was and wait for her. The proper thing, of course, would be to escort her to the carriage, but no doubt her father would be waiting inside to question him, and Soul had heard enough stories to dread the meeting.

Well, there was really only one thing for it. Soul sucked in a deep breath and tightened his grip around the mask. It took great effort to push the door open and step out onto the sidewalk in front of an impressive white stucco house. Flickering gas candles lit the windows, beckoning him inside even as the dark green door swung open in front of him.

A buxom woman dressed in frilled purple skirts grinned slyly at him, and Soul's stomach dropped to his knees. He'd thought Maka's father to be the only obstacle present at the Albarn house, but it seemed as though he was mistaken. "So this is Miss Maka's partner," she all but purred, waving him forward. Almost against his will, Soul's feet carried him onward until he passed the threshold and stood in the foyer with what had to be Blair, clutching the mask like a lifeline. "Miss Maka was right, you are a handsome thing," she added.

"I - beg your pardon?" he spluttered. Surely she had to be mistaken, there was no chance Maka had uttered those words about him…

"And who is _this?_" The displeased grunt came from a tall man descending the stairs in front of him with is chest puffed out, each step hitting the wood with a disproportionate sound, as though he were purposely trying to sound intimidating. The image contrasted greatly with the portrait Maka had painted, and Soul had to bite down a smile - this, then, was Maka's father. How such a man knew Stein, Soul could not fathom. The two could not have been more different.

"Maka's partner, sir. I was sent to fetch her for the ball tonight," Soul said calmly, resisting the urge to step back as the Baron Albarn stopped just a little too close in front of him.

"Oh, is that all?" he sneered, lips curling in disgust.

"You expected more?" Soul knew talking back was a terrible idea, but he had never really been able to resist the temptation.

"Why aren't you escorting her? Surely a young man like you can recognize the beauty that my daughter is?"

Well, of course, but from everything Maka had told him, her father absolutely hated any man who looked at her twice. Had she been exaggerating?

"Who says I'm not?" And so their game of questions continued.

The baron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You stay away from my daughter, you snowy-haired demon!" he hissed, leaning in dangerously close. "If I hear you've laid a hand on her-"

"Papa!" Maka's enraged voice was unmistakable as she clattered down the stairs. "I _told_ you to stay upstairs." She shot Soul an apologetic look as she hauled her father backwards. "You have nothing to worry about, I'll be perfectly fine!"

Baron Albarn spluttered incoherently, caught between simpering at his daughter and hissing muffled curses at Soul over her head. Soul smirked at him before they disappeared into a side room, something neither the baron - nor Blair - missed.

"Ah, so you _are_ escorting Miss Maka," she said triumphantly, appearing suddenly at his side. Soul started and barely swallowed down a particularly rude oath, prompting Blair to giggle. "Soul must like her quite a lot to come in here."

Soul began to wonder whether he'd actually escaped the greater threat. "I don't - what was I supposed - that's not -"

She giggled again. "Miss Maka has never talked about a man like she has talked about Soul."

"I'm sure that's not quite -"

"Does Soul care about Miss Maka?"

"Of course I do." The words popped out of his mouth without warning, leaving him horrified in front of a very pleased Blair.

She clapped her hands in delight. "Then Soul must be very good to Miss Maka, alright?"

"What? I did not - I mean -"

"Blair, would you _please_ stop harassing him?" A very frazzled Maka, having rid herself of her father, flapped her hands at Soul as she herded him out the door. "I'll be back later tonight and I'll tell you everything then, but we're going to be _late_…"

Blair pouted, but stepped away to let Maka pass. "Blair will wait for Miss Maka. But she really must tell Blair everything!" She eyed Soul hungrily, then whispered loudly, "And Blair does mean _everything_."

Soul's face burned red as Maka squawked and pushed him outside. She shut the door firmly behind her and leaned against it for a few moments to gather herself. "I'm so sorry about that," she mumbled finally, unable to look him in the eye. "They're both terribly nosy and nearly impossible to control."

Soul laughed. "So that's where you get it from."

Maka glared at him and said, "If you're done with your teasing, we should be on our way. I wasn't lying about being late."

"I suppose I can pick up where I left off later." Soul stepped to the side and exaggeratedly held an arm out for her. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips as she carefully lifted up her hem to walk down the few front steps to join him. The gas lights on either side of the porch illuminated her fully as she moved, and suddenly Soul's jaw went slack.

She certainly had fulfilled her promise to wear red, and the sight had Soul's heartbeat skyrocketing. Blood-red taffeta skirts pooled around her in waves, the embroidered corset highlighting her thin waist and delicate curves. Small, puffed sleeves clung to her shoulders, leaving her throat bare to highlight the ruby red jewel that settled just below her collarbones. Her hair was pinned up in a series of elaborate curls studded with strings of rubies on thin gold chains. Wide green eyes blinked at him, and he realized that his arm had drifted down to his side and he had been staring like a complete and utter fool.

"You look… beautiful," he said hoarsely as he brought his arm back up, his throat suddenly very dry.

Maka flushed prettily as she took his arm, and he thought he caught her sneaking a long glance at him. "You look very handsome yourself."

Soul was dressed in black trousers, a red silk shirt, and a black velvet suit vest, and though he hadn't thought he would draw much attention in them, the tint of Maka's cheeks said otherwise. She took his arm, her fingers brushing against the soft padding of the mask in his hand. "What's this?"

"Oh, it's, uh, your mask. For the ball tonight." _Well of _course _it's for the ball tonight, you nitwit, why _else _would you have it-_

"As opposed to the ball next week?" she said, but there was laughter in her voice as she took it from his hands, the silk ribbons sliding over her fingers like water. She traced the black thread that wound its way across the red velvet mask and smiled thinly. "I think - I should be frightened, shouldn't I?"

"That's entirely up to you."

"Maybe it's foolish of me," she continued, as though he had not spoken. She took the hand he offered and climbed into the carriage, gaze very far away as he entered after her and swung the door shut. "But I'm not frightened at all. People like her, who think they can do as they please with people's lives… it only makes me angry."

Soul wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he only nodded.

Maka seemed to pull herself from wherever she had been and looked at him. "Well, however this turns out, I am glad you're here. Even though you're not fond of dances."

"I've been known to make exceptions when ruthless, power-hungry countesses are involved."

"How generous of you," Maka said, smiling. She ran a finger along the edge of her mask once more as her gaze fell upon Soul's, lying next to him on the seat. "Is that yours?" she asked. When he nodded, she extended a hand. "May I?"

Soul lay the mask in her hand and watched as she inspected it, holding it up towards him as though to see what he might look like with it on. Soul crossed his eyes at her and she stuck her tongue out at him before giving the mask back. She idly glanced down at her own mask, and seeming to realize something, she said, "A matching set."

Soul suddenly became very preoccupied with the curtains drawn over the windows, and he cursed himself for not having the foresight to open them earlier, if only to give him something plausible to stare at. But when he snuck a quick glance at Maka, she was focused intensely on her hands in her lap.

The carriage ride from Number 13 to the Commonwealth Ballroom where the event was taking place was normally a short one, but as the silence stretched out, it felt like an eternity. Soul wondered if he should break the silence, but what was there to say? Better to keep silent than blurt out some half-formed thought.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of uncomfortable quiet, the carriage slowed to a stop as a muffled commotion washed over them. Soul's pulse leaped suddenly as the realization of what they were about to do settled over him. Yes, he'd known objectively, but now that they were here, everything seemed more real. Arachne was inside that ballroom. The evil after Maka would now have a face, a voice, a presence. There would be no pretending they could hide from this… not after tonight.

"Are you ready?" Maka asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Are you?" he countered, opening the door and stepping nimbly to the ground.

He turned back to see Maka peering out with a determined look on her face. "Yes," she said firmly, holding out her hand. "It's time I take matters into my own hands."

"Then I'm with you," Soul said as he helped her down. She settled her skirts and looked up, her face catching the light leaking from the ballroom before them as she stared.

"It probably isn't anything like the parties you've been to," he said as they began to walk forward, "but we do what we can."

"No," Maka said breathlessly. "It's brilliant."

And she was right; the sight before them was indeed impressive. The Commonwealth Ballroom was a well-known venue throughout London, as only the very wealthy could afford to rent the space. But with the plethora of sponsors attending the event, financing was hardly an issue. Neither was decorating it.

Great swaths of gold and silver fabric twined their way around the towering marble columns lining the front of the building, while delicately curling candelabras cast flickering light on the wide staircase leading to the entrance. A towering foyer carpeted in plush red softened the clicking of heels as guests eagerly made their way to the main hall in the back of the massive building. A ballroom easily three times the size of the Spartoi common room lay before Soul and Maka, and it was filled to the brim with ladies dressed in sparkling gowns and men clad in their very finest suits. Tables piled high with hors d'oeuvres lined either side of the dancing floor, sugar-spun marzipan glittering in the light of the massive chandelier above as the mechanical platters they rested on revolved slowly in order to best show off its wares.

Gleaming automatons gilded in gold and silver stood behind tables and wandered the room with glasses of bubbling champagne balanced perfectly on their trays. Nary a glance was spared for the faceless servers as drinks were taken and given back - these waitstaff had been designed to be ignored. A quartet of self-playing instruments created a pleasant melody that directed the dancers on the main floor, the rhythm more flawless than any human could create.

Soul winced as they descended the few shallow stairs into the room. "What's the matter?" Maka asked.

"Nothing should ever sound that perfect," Soul muttered back, referring to the invisible musicians. "Music is meant to have mistakes; remove them and you take the life from the piece."

"I take it that's why you dislike balls?"

"Partly."

"Well, I'm afraid that I can't do anything about the music. Perhaps dancing might take your mind off the tragedy?" She sent him a sideways glance, a hopeful smile on her face.

Soul's stomach plunged. "Sorry, but I don't dance."

Maka pouted. "Then what on earth do you do at these things? Sit in the corner and scowl at anyone who comes near you?"

"That sounds fairly accurate," came a voice from behind them. They turned to find Kilik nearby, champagne glass in hand. "Has Soul been complaining about the music again?"

"Am I so predictable?" Soul frowned.

"Yes," Kilik said seriously, patting Soul on the shoulder. "You are."

"Are the others with you?" Maka asked, though Soul wasn't sure if the question was out of a genuine curiosity or an attempt to save him from Kilik's ribbing.

"They're scattered here and there." Kilik craned his neck peer over Maka's head. "Ah, there's Kim and Jackie."

"I was beginning to wonder if the two of you would ever show up." Kim's pink hair stood out against the off-white of her dress, and her gloved hands twirled a glass languidly as she smirked at Soul and Maka.

"Not everyone had to take a detour to Belgravia," Soul sniffed.

"Relax, Soul, I was only teasing," she said with a smile. "And the extra stop was worth it, I think. Maka, you look positively stunning. Though I do wonder how you managed to match the shade of Soul's shirt so perfectly."

"Coincidence, I'm sure," Maka said quickly.

Kim didn't bother to hide her smile. "Whatever you say."

"Surely we have more pressing matters than my wardrobe," Maka said. "Where's Black*Star, he - oh, there you are! I'm assuming you've located Arachne by now?"

Black*Star, who had popped up by Kim's side, nodded. "She's on the other side of the room, but all she does is talk to boring old suits. I thought this party was supposed to be interesting."

"With you here, how can it not?" Soul mumbled.

"Exactly!" Black*Star replied, puffing up his chest. "I'm going to do some reconnaissance. Anyone seen Tsubaki?"

"I believe she was over by the southeast corner," Jackie said, pointing in the general direction.

Black*Star, upon spotting his partner, bounded off without a word.

"Whenever you're ready, we'll spread out to keep an eye on you," Kilik told Maka, placing his glass on the tray of a nearby automaton.

"I'm only going to talk to her," Maka said. "Soul will be with me the entire time; is all this really necessary?"

"I'd rather it not be, but you can never be sure. Better to be cautious than lax in a situation like this."

"I suppose so," Maka sighed. "Then it's off to confront the big, bad wolf. Or in this case, spider."

Kilik nodded. "She's right over there." He pointed to the opposite corner, but their view was blocked by a pair of dancers. Just as Maka was about to sidestep to get a better look, the pair twirled away, revealing Arachne.

Even without the power and control she radiated, the pitch-black hue of her gown would have set her apart from the others. Despite her inclination towards arachnids, it was feathers she sported that night, from her sleeves to her collar, even woven through her hair. Her ruby red lips pursed in thought as took a sip of wine and listened to a short, portly gentleman wearing a top hat, and even though he was speaking, it was clear who really controlled the conversation.

Maka stiffened, her hand tightening on his arm. She made no move to go forward, so Soul said, "This is our chance, Maka. Or yours, rather."

"Don't sell yourself short," she scolded gently. "I need you by my side."

"You have me," he replied, and he tried not to think about the other way she could interpret his words.

She didn't reply, but only said, "Then into the fire." Her words were so quiet he wasn't sure if he had been meant to hear it at all.

The dull roar of the music and the crowds around them seemed to fade as they began their circuit around the room. With every step Maka's spine seemed to straighten, and her grip grew steadier. Arachne may have intimidated her, but she was determined not to show it. In that moment, she looked every inch a baron's daughter.

There came a time when their destination became clear, and there could be no mistaking where the two were headed. Arachne glanced at them from the corner of her eye, face expressionless as she bent forward to whisper something in her companion's ear. He nodded, then scowled at those interrupting him before scuttling away.

"I had anticipated this sooner or later," she said as they drew level with her. Her voice was deep for a woman's, slow as molasses and rich like honey. But there was a menace there, cleverly disguised but oh, it was there, sending shivers up Soul's spine as every instinct he possessed warned him to run away while he still could. "Come now, say your piece."

"My piece?" Maka said mildly with a hint of a scoff. "As though I am nothing more than a small child rehearsing her lines for a simple stage production."

"Are you not?" Arachne raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "You have, after all, played your part beautifully."

It took Maka a moment to compose herself, for now the fear was being quickly replaced with anger. "I am not some plaything you may do with as you will." Her voice was brittle, like it might snap at any moment and release all the fury of a hurricane. "Neither is the child you sent after me three days ago. You experiment with souls like they mean nothing, like you can throw them away without penalty, but you are sorely mistaken, _my lady_." She spat out the title like an insult.

Arachne looked amused. "Am I, girl? Enlighten me."

Now Maka's cheeks were flushing red. "There is a balance to this world, Countess. You have meddled with nature and I am here to tell you, balance will win in the end. You think you can dip your fingers in the energy this realm has to offer, that you can play god with your toys. There are consequences to what you're doing, and sooner than later nature will come to collect. Cease while you have a chance at escaping that fate."

Arachne pretended to ponder her words as she swirled the glass in her hand. "You think I am simply 'playing'? That I bumble around blindly, with no realization of my actions?" She leaned in closer, and her dark violet eyes flashed in the light of the chandeliers above. "I have been waiting for a long time, _girl_, longer than you have walked this earth. I have used up and disposed of countless others like you, and I am not afraid to do so again. I will have what I want, and no self-righteous baron's daughter will stand in my way." Her blood-red lips curled into a condescending smile and she pulled back to take a sip of her wine.

Maka was nearly purple now as a vein pulsed in her neck. Her jaw twitched once, twice, and Soul nearly winced at the sight. He had teased Maka before, yes, and he had seen her irritated, but never before had he ever witnessed the true, deadly glory of Maka's full wrath. If he didn't do anything soon, he was certain they all would.

With a deep breath, Maka began. "Why, you evil, conniving-"

In an instant, Soul had his arm clamped around her waist. "If you'll excuse us," he said gruffly to Arachne, and before she could respond, Soul was whisking Maka away to the dancing floor.

"What are you _doing_-"

"You only came to talk to her," he hissed, pulling her close into a waltz. Maka's feet easily fell into step, no doubt a product of years of lessons, but her mind was most certainly not focused on the movement. "If you make a scene, she's won. You can't let her provoke you."

"Didn't you hear-"

"Of course I did. I don't blame you for growing angry. But think, Maka, and use that intelligence of yours. You know what happens if you try to go after her. She's a countess, and you're a baron's daughter."

What she said next was unexpected. "Would you let me finish a sentence for once?"

"As long as it's not a shrieked insult, then the conversation is yours."

"How generous," she said dryly, but some of the tension had leaked from her voice. "But you do have a point. I didn't realize you were so well versed in politics."

He stiffened slightly, but tried to pass it off in the next turn of the dance. She didn't notice his slip, but did relax her hands slightly against him. "She thinks she can do as she pleases," she murmured, a heated stare thrown over his shoulder. "That I am some foolish little-"

"That," Soul said pointedly, "is not helping. You need to calm down. I know music doesn't appeal to you, but count out the beats. Just focus on the dance."

Maka released a long, drawn out breath, and though her shoulders were still stiff, he could see her mouthing the count silently as she looked down towards her feet.

While she was focused on the cadence of the music, Soul was focused on something else entirely: namely, the woman he held in his arms.

It was a terrible idea, he knew. There were more pressing matters to think of, yet all Soul could see was the way her dusty blonde hair caught the light, all he could feel was her cool, soft hand clasped in his own, all he could smell was the faintest hint of rosewater and lavender. She invaded his senses, and for once, Soul was powerless to stop it. For once, he let himself revel in her.

He must have pulled her nearer without realizing, or she had unconsciously stepped forward, because when she looked back up, those enormous green eyes were so much closer than before. He half expected her to pull away from him then, to brush off the dance and to continue on as if nothing had ever happened… but she did not. Her fingers grasped his and finally her shoulders relaxed, and he could almost see the last thoughts of Arachne leave her mind as their gazes met. Suddenly, Soul became her entire focus, and suddenly, it was a little harder to breathe.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in a world of their own creation. Together they danced, and though Soul had never enjoyed the activity, with Maka it felt as natural as breathing. Truthfully, he never wanted to let her go, and he knew without a doubt that he could dance with her for as long as she'd let him. She positively glowed in his arms, and the sight caused something in his chest to feel as though it were expanding and compressing all at the same time.

He found himself smiling softly down at her, and to his great delight, she returned the gesture with a spark in her eye and a curl on her lips that was inexpressibly _Maka_. She drew him in like a moth to flame, and even as he thought that he was leaning down just as she pressed forward and pushed herself up to meet him halfway. His eyelids slipped shut just as their foreheads met…

Someone behind Soul jostled into him then, cracking their foreheads together and abruptly yanking them to the present. Soul let out a muffled curse and Maka squeaked in pain; both rubbed their foreheads and each adamantly refused to look at the other. They scuttled off the dance floor, Soul's cheeks burning more and more with every step he took.

How stupid of him, to forget where they were! Maka was still a young, unmarried woman, and to act so forward with her in a public space was potentially jeopardizing her very bright future. Despite the mask, one indiscretion could haunt her for the rest of her life, and no matter how tempting those green eyes of hers were, he would not - could not - do that to her.

Maka barely acknowledged him as they stood near the edge of the room, and a sudden fear seized his heart. He had trampled all over the boundaries of polite society; had it cost him his good esteem in her eyes? He desperately hoped not.

Just as Soul was summoning the courage to ask her… what, he couldn't say, Kilik rushed over with a grim look on his face. "What's wrong?" Soul asked, both grateful and perturbed by the interruption.

"Jackie's missing," he said grimly. "We've looked everywhere, but she's nowhere to be found."

Soul's blood ran cold. "You're sure she hasn't stepped out for air?"

"Very sure."

"Do you think this is Arachne?" Maka said, speaking up. The fire had returned to her eyes, and her shoulders were squared with her characteristic determination.

"We don't know."

"Well," Soul said suddenly, staring at the conspicuously empty corner of the ballroom where Arachne had been, "she's no longer here, is she? So I would hazard a guess that this is her doing."

"Do the others know?" Maka asked Kilik.

He shook his head. "Ox and Harvar are helping me and Kim look, but Black*Star and Tsubaki don't know yet."

Maka nodded briskly. "Then I'll go let them know. Soul, you go with Kilik and help look for her." Before Soul could protest she was gone, disappearing into the crowds in a flash of red.

Kilik watched her go, a bemused look on his face. "What did you do?"

"Don't we have other things to attend to?" Soul growled.

Kilik raised his hands defensively. "It was only a question. But yes, we do. Come with me."

Soul gave no thought to any guest or automaton he bumped into as he followed Kilik. All self-deprecating thoughts of social gaffes and crossed lines were gone, leaving only concern and anger on behalf of his friend. If Arachne was behind Jackie's disappearance, there would surely be hell to pay for it.

In pairs they searched, combing hallways and back rooms with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. As the minutes ticked by, the tension in Soul's gut twisted tighter and tighter. If Jackie really had been taken, the likelihood of her remaining in the Commonwealth was slim to none. He didn't want to think of the consequences of that.

A wordless shout had him racing down a hallway to where Kilik was diving inside a small study. As Soul caught himself on the doorway, he saw Jackie's crumpled form lying on the carpet, groaning softly as Kilik helped her sit up. Kim, who had silently caught up to Soul, pushing past him and fell to her knees on the floor to rub a hand across her partner's shoulder. "What happened?" she demanded, but her voice was soft.

"I was just looking around one of the outer hallways, to make sure nothing suspicious was going on," Jackie said groggily, eyes blinking slowly. "Something hit me from behind, and I woke up here."

Kim gingerly touched the back of Jackie's head, eliciting a hiss of discomfort. As she continued to check her over, Kilik crossed to the doorway and leaned towards Soul. "If this was Arachne, why bother to leave Jackie here? I'm thankful she did, of course, but what purpose does this serve her?"

"To rattle us?" Soul suggested. "To show us that she still holds power over us even here? But if that's the point, then why go after Jackie? Why not…" Soul's eyes widened as he trailed off, and klaxon alarms started going off in his head.

"Soul? What's-"

"_Fuck!_"

The expletive caused both Kim and Jackie to start suddenly, and Kilik's eyebrows shot up. Before he could ask, Soul cried, "It's Maka, it's Maka she wants, so it's Maka she'd go after - bloody hell, I am a bloody _moron_-"

"Soul! What's going on?" Black*Star looked uncharacteristically serious as he skidded to a stop behind Soul. "Could hear you shouting all the way down the hall."

"Is Maka with you?" he asked urgently, gripping his friend tightly by the shoulders.

"What? No, isn't she with you? I haven't seen her since we left you, why-"

Soul swore again and pushed Black*Star aside to tear down the hall. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be, Maka was fine, she was only lost and trying to find her way back to them, just because she had not met up with Tsubaki and Black*Star did not mean Arachne had her…

...but her mask lying on the hallway floor certainly would. Soul stared at it for a moment, chest heaving, blinking owlishly as his mind tried to refuse what his eyes were telling him. Slowly he bent down and picked it up, his fingers brushing something else underneath it. He moved the mask aside to reveal a scrap of scarlet red taffeta, the same shade of red as Maka's ballgown. And from the ragged tear down the side, it hadn't been removed peacefully.

Thumping footsteps came to a halt behind him and Soul stood and turned turned to show the others what he'd found.

"Maka's been taken."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Maka came to slowly, with a pounding drumbeat in her skull and a sour cotton taste in her mouth. Confusion reigned supreme as she lifted her head; it was dim wherever she was, and her head was still swimming and groggy. Her eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and though Maka wanted to know desperately what was going on, the aching pain in her neck and radiating down her limbs took priority. Slowly she categorized every ache and bruise, and though though she was sore and uncomfortable, she was in possession of all her limbs as far as she could tell. Her head was also beginning to clear, so with a barely contained groan, she opened her eyes and lifted her head.

_Where am I? What happened?_

The last thing she could remember was walking down a back hallway as she looked for Black*Star and Tsubaki. A set of heavy footsteps had sounded behind her, but before she could turn to face them, something heavy had struck her head and she'd lost consciousness.

_Where am I now?_

Gas lamps flickered all around her from where they hung on the walls, casting a dull glow on what looked to be a massive abandoned warehouse. Unlike the Spartoi headquarters, though, this one was all but completely empty, save for the raised platform Maka was currently sitting on. High above her the windows were boarded up, though a low light emitted from an office to her right on the second story.

Maka shifted to look to her left, but something stopped her from moving. She looked down to find that both her wrists were shackled to the cold metal chair she was sitting on. Her gloves and shoes were long gone, though she still wore her taffeta dress. Her ankles were shackled as well, pinning her to the chair. Her torso, thankfully, remained free, and so she carefully twisted as much as she could in order to get her bearings.

A massive metal machine towered on either side of her, identical clawlike pincers rising from the floor below and coming to a halt just before they touched three meters above Maka's head. A control panel filled with knobs and switches was tucked into the side of the tower on Maka's right, while a small table covered in something circular and sprouting wires sat to her left. The platform was raised a few feet off the ground; four steps led upwards from the warehouse floor to her level.

Something rattled behind Maka then, and she whipped her head around to see piles of wooden boxes stacked behind her. A strange whispering seemed to emanate from them, and if she closed her eyes and strained her ears, she could almost make out words…

_Run. _

_Scrick-scrick._

Maka's eyes flew open and she let out a strangled squeak. She knew that sound, and knew it well. Her heart went into overdrive as she whipped her head around, desperately searching for that telltale flash of silver, that unmistakable clicking of mandibles. There was no question now as to where she was, or why she was there.

"I see you are awake." Low, honey-rich tones drifted from the stairs to Maka's right, and she looked up to see Arachne descending them slowly in all her black-feathered splendor. She appeared out of place in the derelict warehouse, but even still she exuded power - there was no mistaking her authority.

"Where am I?" Maka asked thickly. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

"In one of Arachnophobia's many locations," Arachne answered. "It does not matter much which one, for it will be the last place you ever see."

"No," Maka said stubbornly. "It won't. My friends know you took me. They _will_ come for me, and for you."

"And what if they do know?" Arachne stepped down to the ground and approached the platform, heels echoing in the empty space. "London is a sizeable city; they will not find you until long after your usefulness has ended."

"Ended?" Dread pooled in Maka's stomach. "What is it exactly you want me to do?" Maka already knew what Arachne wanted, but she needed to give the others time to find her, so she would play as dumb as she needed to in order to give them that.

"You believe you can buy yourself time," Arachne said, lips curled into a condescending sneer. "Foolish child. The only thing your friends will find is an empty warehouse and your hollowed out soul."

"No," Maka said vehemently. "I will not be your pawn." She struggled in vain against her restraints, hissing as the rough metal bit into the tender flesh of her wrists.

"You have no choice in the matter," Arachne said, climbing the low steps to the platform. She lifted a hand to present the machine surrounding Maka. "Behold Aetherion," she breathed, completely enraptured. A chorus of scrick-scricks answered her and Maka felt a shudder roll up her spine. "The instrument of your salvation," she whispered, but it wasn't Maka she was talking to.

Arachne's skirts twitched and shifted, and though Maka knew what was coming, she still flinched to see an automaton metal spider creep out from behind her feet, mandibles clicking with glee. The countess looked down on it with surprising gentleness as she flicked her fingers in a beckoning motion. The spider scuttled carefully around her feet to stop at her side, spindly legs reaching upwards like a child might. After a moment's hesitation, its legs clung to the cloth pooled around her legs and slowly began climbing up. As it found purchase the small machine moved faster, until it was darting up her arm and down to rest in the palm of her hand.

Arachne stroked its metal body gently in a strangely maternal gesture. "My children have gone without for so long, it is finally time to give you what you deserve."

"And you think that is a soul?" Maka asked in disbelief. "You think they have any right to that?"

"Who are you to decide what they deserve?" Arachne snapped, as though finally remembering Maka was still there. The spider in her hand squirmed and squeaked; Arachne's face softened as she looked down to soothe it.

How could Arachne not notice the hypocrisy in her words? "I will not put souls in those - those _things!_"

"Your determination to resist makes no difference," Arachne said softly. "Aetherion needs only your body, not your consent."

Maka's blood ran cold as she turned her head to slowly to take in the machine around her once more. "How - what is this?"

"Aetherion takes extracted souls and attaches them wherever I so desire. I had hoped to make an autonomous machine that could do so on its own, but unfortunately a conduit is needed."

"A Grigori soul," Maka whispered.

"Precisely. It is a pity the last one died before we could perfect the design," Arachne said, though she hardly looked apologetic. "No matter. We have you now."

"But you need human souls," Maka said, scrambling for any delay she could. "Surely you don't have those!"

"Look behind you," Arachne said, gesturing to the boxes stacked behind Maka. "I have all the souls I could possibly need, thanks to my sister and that dreadful experiment of hers." Her mouth twisted in distaste. "Crona has their moments, though most of the time they're completely useless. They could not even manage the simple task of watching you without being seen."

Crona - so that was the figure Maka had encountered at the race. She was not surprised to hear they were the result of an experiment, and her heart ached for them again. No one should have to be at the mercy of Arachne and what sounded like her equally deranged sister. "How could you do that to them?" she cried. "They're only a child!"

"Not anymore, dear." Arachne clicked her tongue. "My sister did some truly terrible things to them; I'm not even sure they know what humanity is."

"You _witch_," Maka hissed.

"Now, now, don't blame _me_; I'm hardly responsible for my sister's actions. I only take advantage of them when it suits me."

"As though that makes you any better."

"On the contrary, I acquire results. I have you, don't I? And in a few short hours my children will finally roam the streets as they should, with minds and hearts of their own. All I need from you, of course, is that precious little soul of yours. Nothing will be left after I'm through, of course. A consequence of innovation, I'm afraid."

"Please don't do this," Maka cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. "I told you, this isn't right. There will be consequences!"

"From whom?" Arachne asked impassively. The spider scurried up to perch on her shoulder as she crossed the platform and began clicking levers and turning knobs. "You? Your friends? You will be capable of very little shortly, and I highly doubt your friends' timely arrival. So you see, there really isn't anyone left to stop me from doing this." She flipped one last switch and circled around to the side table, picking up the strange instrument Maka had seen before.

It was a circlet of metal with wires of all kinds growing from all sides, each running to a different part of the machine. Despite Maka's attempts to duck and dodge, Arachne swooped down to wrestle the thing onto her head. The metal was cold, and goosebumps erupted along Maka's scalp as it clamped down on her skin.

The shackles pinning her to the chair were unyielding as she struggled, thrashing her body in vain to try and throw the headpiece off. A low buzzing sounded in her ear; Maka's heart thumped a wild beat in her chest.

"Giriko," Arachne called out, low voice carrying to every corner of the warehouse. "Have Arachnophobia begin unpacking the souls. I've a feeling this one will take longer to prime." She shot Maka a disdainful look over her shoulder as she descended the platform and began climbing the stairs to the corner office.

A bulky man with a face full of piercings appeared from the shadows and began barking orders. "You heard the boss! Start unloadin' those crates!" He leered at Maka as he rounded the platform. "Cherry's in the oven; time to let 'er cook."

Maka snarled at him, but it quickly turned to a yelp as the machine around her groaned and whined. The towers on either side of her began to descend past each other; no longer were they nearly touching, insead each had begun to curl in on itself, both points slowly lowering towards her. She wondered frantically if they might never stop, if she was destined to die crushed between the two, but before she could move out of the way, they ground to a halt and hovered in the air on either side of her head.

At first, Maka could barely hear the low buzzing emanating from the machine over the pounding of her heart, but gradually it grew louder, echoing in her ears until it bounced around her skull. A strange, prickling sensation spread outwards from the headpiece, washing over her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. She felt electrified, every muscle tense and guarded against the foreign energy. The wrongness of it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

This was Aetherion, she realized. She could not see it but it was there, draped across her shoulders like a blanket of steel wool, scraping at her and rubbing her raw. She could feel its desire, its hunger for her soul, and it was terrifying.

How could she defeat this, this machine designed and honed to perfection? Maka was only a girl in over her head - a David facing her Goliath, only she had no rock and no sling.

_No_, she thought suddenly. _No, I don't. I have a Grigori soul._ Granted, she did not have much experience in utilizing her gifts, but as the buzzing shifted into something altogether more sinister, Maka knew it didn't matter.

She had a Grigori soul, and she was not going to let them take it.

With a snarl on her lips she straightened, back ramrod straight and trembling under Aetherion's assault. The machine, seeming to sense her defiance, renewed its efforts, pressing down on her and burrowing its hooks further beneath her skin. A groan escaped her lips as she fought against it, her every thought focused on keeping Aetherion out.

A mechanical growl echoed in her ears as Aetherion shifted its grip and began to pull. The hooks in her skin stretched tight, and Maka wondered frantically if it meant to pull her apart entirely. Was that how Aetherion was to collect her soul - ripping apart her body until only her soul was left?

She was so consumed in trying to hold herself together that she nearly missed the quiet little knock deep within her. The doors Maka had pictured before, the one she had used to let the aether in - something was on the other side, something that, despite the quiet, wanted very much to enter into her.

The knock came louder, than louder still, until it was a pounding that would not relent. Maka tried to shift her attention to keep Aetherion out, but it yanked sharply, throwing her back in her chair.

_It's stretching me too thin_, she thought desperately. _I don't know if I can hold it off forever, I don't _know…

_No. Not forever. They will find me. They will. _

_They _have _to._

Maka's jaw ached as her teeth ground together, and her cognizance of her surroundings shrank to encompass only herself and the machine, both locked in a heated combat neither would back down from. But as the seconds and minutes ticked on, Maka felt her defenses starting to slip, and the door began to crack open imperceptibly.

If only she could resist just a little longer...

* * *

><p>"Would everyone just <em>knife it?!<em>"

The room went silent as all eyes fell on Soul. He resisted the urge to fidget under the scrutiny. "Arguing gets us nowhere," he said, fists clenching at his sides. "It definitely doesn't get us closer to finding Maka."

"Then what would you have us do?" Kim snapped, running a hand through her already tousled pink hair. No longer did she wear the pretty cream dress from earlier; everyone had changed clothes the instant they had arrived at the warehouse. This was a night for hunting, not dancing. Gone were the sparkling gowns and pressed tuxedos; now was the time for loose-fitting trousers and shirts, for hidden belts filled with knives and daggers, for brass knuckles and bare fists. Spartoi looked grim as they exchanged glances with each other. Soul knew what they wanted to say, but refused to air the thought himself.

"We need to think carefully," he said. "Can't just rush in blind."

"That's all well and good, but who knows how long she's been gone now?" Jackie added unhelpfully.

"Can't wait around," Black*Star agreed. "I say we go out there and crush Arachne!"

"You're welcome to it if you've any idea where she is," Harvar said dryly.

"You found nothing else at the Commonwealth?" Nygus asked Soul, indicating the mask and scrap of fabric he'd thrown onto the table in the middle of their circle.

He shook his head. "I didn't find a map with a circled building saying 'come and get me' if that's what you're asking."

"No need for cheek," she said sharply, shooting him a warning gaze.

"I know you're worried," Sid said. "But we all are."

"Worried isn't going to find her," Soul muttered. "Death City is enormous; how on earth are we supposed to know where she is."

"We don't have to," Ox said slowly. He chewed on his thumb as he thought aloud. "We know she is not going to be in, say, Chelsea, correct? Then we only have to eliminate the areas of London we know she cannot be in. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from there."

The room was silent for a brief moment. "Map," Soul croaked, his throat suddenly very dry. "We need a map."

Minutes later they were hunched over a map Nygus had torn down off her office wall, Ox's pen moving frantically as everyone called out around him:

"Can't be in Chelsea, like you said. No warehouses."

"Not Holloway, too open."

"West End's too crowded."

"Could be Whitechapel," Liz Thompson added in as she and Patti joined the group. "But not Stepney Green, those are all black markets for axel parts." She shot a glance at Soul and added, "I've wired Kidd, he's on his way. I thought we needed as much support as we could."

"I suppose then that my expertise is desired?" Stein's quiet monotone came from the doorway, where he stood his his arms folded and eyebrows raised.

"Maka's been taken-"

"Yes, yes, I'm aware." At Kilik's skeptical look he added, "Your voices carry, you know."

"Then perhaps you can lend a hand in helping us find her?" Tsubaki asked, barely looking up from the map.

"Of course," Stein said briskly. He shouldered his way into the circle and considered the map thoughtfully. "Not there," he said, pointing to Stamford Hill. "Or anywhere near the edges of London, I'd imagine. She would want quick access to the heart of the city."

"Not the parks, either,"Jackie added. "Too many people."

"Piccadilly Road is too large," Kim said, running a finger along its length. "In fact, she's probably kept away from any road with significant traffic."

Ox's pen flew, roads were called out, locations named, until they had narrowed the possibilities down to three or four districts. "Are you certain we cannot rule out Kentish Town?" Tsubaki asked. "Surely that is far too close to us."

"Which is exactly the point," Nygus reminded her. "We wouldn't think her to be nearby, and so it's entirely possible that she is."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Black*Star said, bouncing on his feet. "Let's start looking!"

"We have four districts, Black*Star," Kilik said in exasperation. "That would take months to search. We don't even have a day."

"I can't just stand here and do nothing!" Black*Star scowled. "Arachne has Maka and who knows what she's doing to her now."

"That's what we're trying not to think about," Jackie muttered.

"We've done all we can," Harvar said quietly. "That's what we have."

Everyone stared at the map grimly, taking in the great swath of unmarked space left. Kentish Town and Camden Town were mostly warehouses in the poorer districts and were both good choices for secluded experiments. Lower Holloway was closer to the railways; with its near-constant noise and bustling activity, no one would notice movement in or out of an abandoned warehouse. Islington was their least likely target, though it was the largest district of all. As they took in the sheer space left to search, defeat settled heavy over them all.

Something pounded loudly on the garage door behind them, startling everyone. They exchanged questioning glances, but no one seemed to be expecting anyone. Soul, who could not look at the map anymore without feeling sick, backed away from the table and went to answer the frantic knocking.

"What do you wa- _Blair?!_"

The maid looked unusually grim as she shouldered Soul aside and marched straight into the common room. Her flounced skirts had been traded for dark, tight-fitting trousers and a loose white shirt, and her hair was tied back away from her face. No longer were her eyes sparkling with mischief, and the thin line of her mouth told Soul that something was very wrong.

"Who in the world is-"

Blair cut Ox off. "Blair knows where Miss Maka is."

"How do you know that?" Nygus asked, leaning forward with her palms on the map. She didn't seem to care who Blair was, though others around the table looked less sure.

"Blair was running errands," she explained. The cryptic tone to her voice made Soul wonder if there was more to it than that, but he didn't press. "One of Blair's friends heard something and let it slip to Blair. So she came here."

"What did you hear?" Sid asked.

"Blair knows Arachne took Miss Maka tonight at the ball."

"We _know_ that already," Kim said in exasperation.

Blair shot her an impatient look. "Blair also knows where Miss Maka _is_."

"Where?!" Several voices called out at once, overlapping in their panic and desperation.

"Blair will show you." She started back towards the garage door, only to have Jackie reach out and catch her by the arm.

"Just tell us where she is and we can go find her."

Blair fixed her with a steely look that would have even the most stalwart soldier quaking in his boots. "Blair knows if she does that, Miss Maka's friends will leave Blair behind. And Blair will _not_ stay behind for this. So Blair will lead you to her."

Jackie nodded as she let her go and stepped back. "I understand."

"You cannot be serious," Ox said. "Who _is_ this woman, anyway?"

"Blair is Maka's maid," Soul said. "And right now, the only chance we have of finding her."

"Her _maid?_" he scoffed. "And you think she can help us?"

Blair's lips curled into a dangerous smile as she slowly stalked over to Ox, who had to physically stop himself from shrinking back. She leaned in close and though her words were quiet, they were heard by all: "Blair thinks she can do much more than that, little boy."

"We don't have time to waste," Soul reminded everyone. "I don't care who we have to take; if Blair knows where Maka is, we need to _move_."

"However far away she is, it's quickest to take the axels," Black*Star said, already heading over towards the wall of cycle. "You know how to ride, Blair?"

Blair gave another wicked smirk and said, "Yes. Blair does."

* * *

><p>The Midland Steam Refinery was well known throughout all of London as the premier refueling station for all trains running on the York Rail Lines that bisected the city. In the daylight hours it was a bustling depot of human and machine workers alike, its steamyard packed full with bulky, unwieldy steam canisters and shrieking furnaces. After twilight, however, automatons ruled, filling the constantly muggy air with hisses and pops as they trundled along their worn tracks. The steam furnaces chugged at a slower pace as they restocked for the next day's workload, paying no mind to the intruders slinking through the yard.<p>

A large boxcar full of broken down canisters lay on the edge of the refinery, serving as the perfect cover for a crowd of axels. Sid walked down the line quickly, attaching what looked to be small round buttons to each engine casing. A machine of Liz's creation, the buttons were actually small locks designed to protect the cycles from theft - no axel would run with a button on its side, and only someone from Spartoi would be able to remove them. It wasn't something they used often, but it seemed appropriate for the occasion.

After he was finished, they gathered around Blair, who had led them east across Kentish Town and into Islington. Kim and Tsubaki threw anxious glances around the refinery, but there was no outside activity save for the automatons. "Surely she can't be here," Jackie said, though she fingered the waistband of her trousers, where several blades lay concealed.

"There," Stein said grimly, nodding to the warehouse that bordered the east limits of the refinery. For all intents and purposes it appeared abandoned, but minuscule strips of light flickered between the rotting boards nailed to the windows. But the expression on Stein's face made Soul think that something else had tipped the doctor off.

Blair nodded. "Yes. Miss Maka is being held there."

"I should warn you," Stein said woodenly, his gaze still fixed on the warehouse before them, "there are several dozen of her agents there, along with Arachne herself. This will not be an easy fight."

"Wouldn't be fun if it was," Black*Star said, but the look on his face was vicious.

"How do you suggest we proceed?" Harvar asked, eyeing the warehouse critically. "We don't know the area."

"One entrance I can see, perhaps one more I cannot," Tsubaki answered immediately. "The doors are chained shut, but not impossible to break. The windows are too high to gain access, though there may be a back door I have not seen."

"I say we just charge," Black*Star said. "Nothing like the element of surprise."

"Once we lose that, though, we're on our own, aren't we?" Kim shot back.

"The longer we stand around debating a plan, the more time we waste. What does it look like, Doc?" Kilik asked, peering around at Stein, who hadn't moved since laying eyes on Arachne's lair.

"Something is wrong," he murmured. "With Maka's soul. It is as though it is under attack, but I am not sure the cause. If we do not hurry, it could be lost."

"That settles it," Soul growled. "We go. Now."

There was no argument behind him as he led the way. There was the hushing sound of cloth against metal as weapons were drawn, but the only sound that could be heard was the steaming wheezes of the automatons in the refinery behind them. Soul was thankful for the noise, as it hid their approach from the two guards stationed outside the doors. Tsubaki and Black*Star darted ahead, taking them down with nary a whisper, though Soul could see a muscle twitching in Black*Star's jaw as he resisted the urge to shout loudly in triumph.

Before they could charge in, however, Tsubaki was climbing neatly up the side of the building, hands finding invisible cracks to hoist herself up to the boarded shut window above. She balanced carefully on the ledge, face pressed against the wood as she peered inside. Without looking away she started signaling quickly to Black*Star, who relayed her messages as he watched her.

"Maybe three dozen inside, a handful of harder targets, Maka in the center near the back, corner room occupied with an unknown number… and Maka doesn't look good."

"If Maka is in the back, perhaps it would be wise to circle around and-"

"No time," Soul said, cutting Ox off as he edged towards the doors. Thick chains wrapped around the handles, a fresh shining padlock holding them together. "We do this now."

"Then how do you suggest we dispose of the locks?" Ox pointed out.

"You've no imagination, do you Ox?" Jackie said mildly, squatting down to sort through the refinery debris that lay nearby. She twisted a thin lead pipe in her hand as she approached the chained doors. Soul stepped aside, allowing her to fit the pipe between the chains, bracing it against the door as she leaned back and placed one foot halfway up. With a low grunt, she threw herself back as she pulled on the pipe with all her might. Metal strained and whined under her weight, before finally giving way with a loud shriek. Soul and Harvar ripped away the chains to free the handles as Kim and Ox took the handles and threw the doors wide.

The first thing he saw was an enormous machine, and as everyone in the warehouse froze, he caught a glimpse of Maka right in the middle of its clutches, mouth twisted in a pained grimace as her body shook under an invisible attack. She whimpered and screamed, her fingers clawing at the arms of the chair she was bound to. Her red dress seemed muted in the low light, but he could still see the tatters and the rips in the material.

_What have they done to you?_

Soul's blood boiled and his fingers twitched on the knife he held at his side. Something foreign seemed to invade him then, seeping through his pores and latching onto his every muscle and nerve ending. He was powerless to resist his fury, but he didn't care about controlling it. He would use anything at his disposal to free Maka, and so he let the demon take control. With a guttural growl he charged forward, arms held at the ready and knife aimed at the dozens of masked henchmen that stood between him and his partner.

"So much for subtle," Kilik muttered next to him, but there was a grim smile on his face.

"Subtle's overrated!" Black*Star crowed from above. Soul wasn't sure how his friend had ended up in the rafters already, but he was glad for it. They needed Black*Star's skill now more than ever.

"I will try to circumvent them," Tsubaki said, her light-hearted expression discarded in favor of dark determination.

"Do as you please, but I am still going after her," Soul grunted, lashing out at a masked enemy approaching from the left. His blade caught the man across the ribs and he collapsed to the ground; Soul didn't give him a second look as he stepped over him.

"Look," Kim called, pointing towards the second story. "Up there!"

Soul followed her gesture to see Arachne standing in the window of the corner office. She watched Spartoi move through her ranks with a blank look on her face, then turned to address someone out of sight. There was a flutter of movement, but Arachne remained where she was, hands folded behind her back as she surveyed her warehouse.

"Not even going to fight," Jackie spat, twisting the pipe she'd swiped from the floor in her had. "Coward."

"Not for long," Ox called, a vindictive look on his face. "She doesn't get to hide this time."

Harvar, who was beside him, nodded. Each pair peeled off to confront Arachnophobia on either side, but Soul and Kilik continued straight on. To his left, Soul could see Liz Thompson grinning wide and spitting insults as she fired off shot after shot from a dueling pistol; her sister carried its twin. Blair fought like a wild thing, wickedly sharp blades gleaming in the light as her eyes sparked dangerously. Kidd and Stein were to the right, holding off opponents with a set of pistols and a scalpel, respectively. Soul snuck a glance behind to see Sid and Mira trailing after them, both clutching knives and looking equally grim. Spartoi was out in full tonight, and they would have what they came for.

"To your left!" Kilik yelled, and Soul turned to see one of Arachne's henchmen charging at him like a bull. Soul flipped the curved blade around in his hand and swung out, plunging it into the man's shoulder before he could reach Soul with his own knife. Blood droplets arced through the air as Soul pulled it free.

"Thanks!" he called back to Kilik, but the racer was already engaged in a battle of his own. Sid and Mira were also busy fending off five henchmen of their own, fighting back to back and moving around each other effortlessly without exchanging a single word.

A quick survey of the room told a similar story. Battles waged on as Arachnophobia began to surround Spartoi. It was clear which organization held the better fighters, but it didn't matter much in the wake of sheer numbers. If they didn't retrieve Maka soon, the conflict would not end in their favor.

Which left him, he supposed. Someone had to plunge through the fray to get her, and he was more than happy to volunteer.

Soul didn't expect the task to be easy, but the path was littered with more obstacles than he would have hoped. It seemed like he could barely take a step forward before someone was charging after him, waving a knife or a plank of wood or some other type of makeshift weapon at his head. Soul's instincts were being pushed to the limit with every dodge and swing he took, and yet it still didn't feel like enough. At the pace he was going, he would never make it to Maka in time. Even though Tsubaki had opted for stealth, with the amount of henchmen clustered behind the platform too, he didn't anticipate her finding much success either.

Kilik did his best to stick by Soul's side, swinging his shining brass knuckles with abandon, but there was only so much he could do when faced with two, three opponents at a time. The others too were preoccupied with keeping their own skin intact, and it was as Soul was searching the crowds to ensure his friends were still fighting that it came time to seriously worry for his own.

"Gotcha a nice little cherry up there," a low voice growled from in front of him. Soul looked up to see a towering man covered in piercings scowling down at him, a pair of what looked to be metal gloves covering his hands. "Liked the taste a little too much, didja? Can't be that sweet, what with all her spirit. You like the sour ones, then?" He leered at Soul, the lascivious look on his face making his double meaning very clear. He flexed his knuckles, the joints clicking strangely. Soul looked closer and to his surprise found that they weren't gloves at all, but rather entirely mechanical hands. The wiring crawled up his forearms and disappeared beneath his shirtsleeves, flesh and metal mingling along the way. Steam hissed from a valve in his wrist, fingers groaning as they clenched tight into a fist.

"You shut your mouth," Soul warned. He brought the hand with the knife to rest by his cheek, the other hovering near his opposite elbow. He balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to move at a moment's notice, and the man laughed.

"You think some fancy moves will do ya fine?" he asked. "Dance all you want; ain't gonna make a lick of difference."

A blur of silver flashed in front of him and suddenly Soul was flying through the air and crashing to the ground, wheezing as the breath left his body. His cheek throbbed and he could feel where his skin had split. He hadn't even seen the blow coming, and suddenly he felt very cold. How was he supposed to get past this man to rescue Maka? He wasn't even sure he could walk straight anymore.

"Quit playing with your food, Giriko!" A short man in a top hat scurried past, and Soul nearly did a double take. The man from the ball…? But suddenly Giriko was flexing his hands and advancing on him, so there was no more time to wonder about it.

"I'm almost through," Giriko snapped, looking down at Soul with contempt. "Weren't much of a meal anyway."

"Not much, huh?" Soul muttered, and before Giriko could do whatever he'd planned next, Soul mustered his strength and twisted, his foot swinging around to catch Giriko in the knee. As he howled and stumbled, Soul scrambled up, clutching at the knife that had fallen out of his grip.

Giriko eyed him warily as they started circling each other. Aside from a slight limp on his left side, he seemed perfectly capable, causing Soul's stomach to tie in knots. Whatever power his anger had given him seemed to leech from his skin, leaving him tired and off-balance. Another glance towards Maka fueled his determination, but it wasn't his will that was about to be tested.

"You got fire in your belly, I'll give you that," Giriko drawled, boots hitting the ground heavily as he moved to the left. "You want 'er somethin' bad, is that right?"

"She's my partner," Soul hissed. The hilt of his knife was slick with sweat.

"Got yerself a real nice one, too," Giriko continued. "Wonder if she'll be as pretty at her funeral."

"Wonder if you'll be as ugly at yours!" Soul lunged forward, slicing with his knife. Giriko leaned back and to the left, just barely dodging the blade. Soul was careful not to put too much power behind the blow, and though he only took two steps forward, it was just enough to bring him in reach of Giriko's fists.

Pain lanced up his arm, and he looked down to see a thin line of blood staining his upper arm. He looked up in surprise to see one of Giriko's fingers standing tall above the rest, wickedly sharp and stained red. It retracted slowly with an ominous ticking that seemed to pulse in time with the throbbing in his arm. Fiery heat lurched through his veins as his nerves slowly caught up, and Soul could barely bite back his gasp of pain.

"Maybe not so much fire after all. Shame," Giriko clucked his tongue. "I never get to have any fun."

A strangled scream pierced the air. Soul risked a look behind him to see Maka arching in the chair, her back bent much too far as her body contorted. Her eyes were nearly bugging out of her head, her pupils shrunk to pinpricks as they flicked around. They landed on him suddenly and their eyes locked, but before Soul could say anything, a metal-encased fist crashed into his side and he went sprawling for the second time.

"Give it up, boy," Giriko said, sounding bored. "Too late for her, can't ya see?" He stood over Soul and looked down at him, then kneeled and placed one mechanical hand heavily across his chest. Soul wheezed and tried to struggle, but Giriko held him down easily. He lifted his other hand high above Soul's face, and though he wanted to, Soul couldn't look away. The last thing he saw was metal speeding towards his nose, and finally he slammed his eyes shut to wait for the impact.

And then the world _exploded_.

* * *

><p>Glossary of Terms:<p>

Cherry: whore

knife it: be quiet


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The doors crashed open, Spartoi burst through, and Maka was lost to a world of fear and flame. Aetherion was relentless, prying at the edges of her being and rattling down the doors she was so desperately trying to keep closed. If she fell, if she allowed herself to be taken, Arachne would win and unleash her monstrosities upon the world. Maka could not let that happen, so she would fight. She would fight with everything she had left, and then she would pick herself up and fight again.

As strong as her resolve was, however, Aetherion was stronger. For every crack and weakness in her defense that she sealed up, it found two more to poke and prod. Maka was stretched too thin for too long, and slowly Aetherion dug its talons into her and would not be shaken.

_You can't hold on forever_, a small voice in her head told her. _No matter your determination, no matter your strength… it will beat you. You can fight until the end all you want, but brute force will do nothing. _

_Think._

Maka sucked in a breath of air and held it, exhaling slowly as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts. _I can think my way out of this. I can._

How did you beat a machine that attacked your insides? How did you turn the tides when you couldn't even see your enemy? What could Maka do other than sit and cower as she tried to hide from the threat outside?

The answer came in an instant, and though it terrified Maka, she knew it was the only option open to her. She would have taken anything else, but there was nothing. Only…

_Use its energy against it. Own your ability, accept the burden and the gift. Let go of your fear, it doesn't control you anymore. You _can _control this. _

_You _have _to. _

Maka shifted in her seat and hissed in pain as the rusted metal shackles pinning her to the chair bit into the tender flesh of her wrists. Warm blood trickled across her skin, and a sudden rush of clarity enveloped her and beat back Aetherion's pressing burn. Maka gasped and gathered her strength and wits, eyes still screwed shut as mind and will battled machine.

To let the aether in, she'd have to throw the doors wide. There was no way to prevent the machine from slipping inside, so she would simply have to fight fire with fire. Hopefully, the aether would provide her with the strength to do just that.

Her fingers dug into the splintered wood of the chair, arms trembling as she braced herself. As much as she didn't want to let it in again, she had no other choice. The aether would either be her salvation… or her destruction.

She heaved a breath and with a great yank, she threw the doors open. Wave after wave of energy poured into her, electrifying every nerve and burning through her veins. A scream pierced the air, and distantly Maka recognized it as her own.

Her body twisted and contorted outside of her control, and her eyes flew open wide. The floor below her teemed with activity; bodies ducked, dodged, twisted, punched, kicked, fell. She saw her friends with grim looks on their faces, weapons of all shapes and sizes clutching in their hands, fighting with all they had: Ox and Harvar, whirling around each other as they matched their opponents blow for blow; Kim and Jackie, standing back to back with identical snarls on their faces; Black*Star and Tsubaki, cutting down Arachnophobia with ruthless efficiency; Kilik, putting his boxing talents to use; the Thompsons, wild looks of glee on their faces as they aimed dual pistols; Kidd, whose sharp golden eyes were narrowed as he took down enemy after enemy with elegant, ivory-etched revolvers; Stein, who perhaps looked the maddest of all of them as he slipped his scalpel between ribs; Sid and Nygus, who didn't look phased at all as they guarded each other; Blair… Blair?

Yes, her maid was there, dressed in men's clothing and wielding knives so sharp they looked like they could slice air. There was a deadly look on her face as she cut down any who opposed her, and in that moment, she could not have looked less like the woman Maka knew and loved.

Finally her eyes landed on her partner, on her Soul. He was looking at her desperately, and as the energy swirled around inside her, she wondered what she must look like to him. _I can do this_, she wanted to tell him. _I'm in control_. But she didn't know if that was true.

Before she could even think about forming words, Giriko, the man who'd leered and insulted her, lunged forward with one metal-fisted hand and landed a rib-cracking blow to his side. Soul collapsed to the ground, and Maka's insides twisted painfully.

_No. You can't let this happen. Do something!_

Aetherion was starting to leech the aether back out, twisting and perverting it as it went. Maka gritted her teeth and seized hold of the energy, digging in her heels as she resisted. With every breath she called out, taking in more and more aether to fortify her bones. Aetherion's grip grew weaker, or perhaps Maka's was growing stronger.

Just as Maka thought the battle might turn in her favor, Aetherion latched upon her once more, sucking and pulling and yanking from all around. It was in that moment that she caught sight of Soul again, spread out on the floor, eyes shut as Giriko loomed over him with his fist raised. Time seemed to slow as it began to descend, and Maka could not look away.

_No no no please not Soul. Please no stop don't. Not Soul. Not Soul!_

_NO!_

Something inside her snapped violently into place, as though all the energy had suddenly aligned in the way it was always meant to be. Power flared from her very bones, knocking almost everything to the ground as the air around her vibrated and hummed a dissonant tune. Aetherion recoiled like a tightly wound spring, and the aether snapped the door shut neatly behind it. For a gut-wrenching second, Maka felt something similar, as though she too had been tossed aside and locked away.

A deadly calm settled over her then, and it was with a detached disinterest that she noted the shackles around her wrist beginning to glow red. She pulled her hands up, and they passed through the melting metal as though it was butter. The molten liquid hissed and flamed as it dripped to the wooden platform beneath her, but she felt no pain as it ran down her fingers. Her dress fluttered as the aether around her played at her feet, and soon those were free from restraints as well. Maka stood slowly, the aches and pains fading from her body until she felt stronger than she ever had before. She radiated power; Aetherion had done well to fear her.

All eyes were on her, the air filled with tense silence, but she paid them no mind. She had work to do. Slowly, she turned around to face Aetherion, and it might have been her imagination, but it seemed to shrink away from her. The air around it still hummed and shimmered with energy, but it was muted and timid. As Maka lifted her hands, the pitch leaped upward into a frantic whine, as though pleading with her.

But the aether was not inclined to mercy that night.

Her hands tensed as though clutching the towers themselves, and as her fingers curled inwards, the metal in front of her buckled and crumpled like paper. Tingling warmth shot down her arm as the machine let out grating shrieks and sinister groans. Sparks hissed and danced in the air as the glass dials on the control board cracked and sprayed shards across the platform. Springs snapped and wires frayed; levers bent into unrecognizable shapes and gears jammed together in a hopeless tangle. As the destruction went on, the heat-shimmer energy dulled until finally it dissipated with a hollow _pop_, and suddenly Aetherion was no more.

"Maka?" A quiet voice made her turn, and she saw a white-haired man lying on the floor below the platform, looking up at her with fear and uncertainty in his eyes. When she looked at him, he flinched and recoiled slightly, and she looked away to scan the room.

There were cruel people here, that she could see clearly. Their souls pulsed with fear and ugly terror, calling for them to turn tail and run. Some already had, and some looked on the verge of obeying their instinct. With a flick of her finger she sent those nearest to her flying, their bodies hitting the warehouse walls with sickening crunches. The others came to their senses and ran, doors flung wide as they escaped into the night. She paid them no mind; they were not why she was here that night.

"You fools!" A voice dripping with disdain came from the stairs. Arachne stood just outside the corner office, one hand on the railing as she looked down upon the scant remains of her organization. "You cowards! Stand your ground and _fight_, she is only a girl-"

"_Arachne._" Maka's mouth was open, but the voice inside was not hers. Hundreds, no, thousands of voices spoke in her stead, a chorus of the dead. It was the disparity that made her jerk back, and some part of her seemed to separate from the rest. This wasn't her, hadn't _been_ her since she'd let the aether in. Something else was inside her, pulling the strings, and Maka was no more than a passenger left to watch.

It was a disorienting feeling, like she had been stuffed inside a glass box within her own body. She could feel her mouth opening and her limbs moving, but there was no pain, no sensation of hot or cold. Her body was hers and yet… not.

"_You have opposed the natural order,_" she said. The voices thundering from her mouth like the crashing of waves. "_The natural order will not stand for this._"

"And who are you to tell me this, to decide what I can and cannot do?" Arachne asked imperiously, but there was a sliver of doubt in her midnight-violet eyes.

"_You _dare _question us? We are life itself!_" the voices roared, and the rafters above their heads shook with the very sound. "_We are every living thing, everything that was and is and is yet to be!_" Maka swelled with every word, hair whipping around her face in an invisible wind. She felt her feet leave the wooden platform below her as the aether drew her upwards into the air, and Maka was helpless in her glass prison, free to watch despairingly as the aether took her completely over. It was then that she saw herself as the others did, eyes washed over in pure white light, all terrifying power and uncontrollable rage.

She looked like an avenging angel.

"_We gave you life and you have defied us,_" the voices spat. The air buzzed with static. "_There are consequences to your actions._" What they said next was quieter, but no less menacing. "_Life for life._"

Arachne opened her mouth to protest, but Maka's hand shot up, fingers curled inwards to once again seize on some invisible force. A choked gasp leaked from the spider-woman's throat, her tendons stiff and strained as she struggled.

Maka's hand tightened, sinking into the invisible energy cradled in her palm, and she turned her palm around so it was facing her. Slowly she drew it closer, and as it moved, so did Arachne. She was lifted into the air as Maka dragged her closer, and though the woman tried desperately to escape the aether's grasp, there was no breaking from the invisible bonds that held her. When she has hovering just in front of the platform, Maka released her hand, and Arachne fell to the ground in a heap. Curses and threats tumbled from her mouth as she tried to free herself from the tangles fabric of her dress, hair falling into disarray. Before she could make it fully upright, Maka's hand reached out once more, gently plucking at the air with three fingers.

Arachne stilled, a great, sucking gasp rattling her chest. Her spine arched backwards, head lolling back to spill her ink-black hair across her shoulders. Bare feet swayed gently over the ground as she hovered just barely in the air, single invisible string holding her up.

Maka's hand glided upwards in one smooth motion, and Arachne's chest glowed a fierce purple-red. Brighter and brighter it burned until a single tendril of light bloomed from her skin, curling delicately through the air. A second tendril appeared, then a third. The light exploded out from her chest like a blooming flower, but the mottled red hue betrayed its true nature. With a flick of her finger, Maka bundled the tendrils together and plucked them. Arachne moaned lowly, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Reaching forwards once more, Maka scooped at the air and drew her hand in close, pulling with it a small, fiery red-and-purple orb. It was not quite as eager to part with its host, and took much more coaxing to draw it out into the open. Arachne twitched and jerked as it moved, gurgling and choking while her soul - and her life - left her.

Life for life.

Maka watched her own face as the aether worked, and what she saw frightened her. There was no emotion there, nothing to indicate the severity of what her own hands were doing. This was not her, none of it was… but at the same time it _was_ her, and it made her sick. She'd done this, she'd let them in, and now they were doing as they pleased with no way to stop them.

Arachne gave one last shuddering breath as the last shred of her soul was torn away. The little purple-red orb hovered placidly in the air as its vessel collapsed to the floor with a muted thump, limbs sprawled in every direction. A thin trickle of blood dribbled past the corner of her mouth and down her cheek, staining the cracked concrete floor black.

A body burst from the shadows near the corner and sprinted towards Maka at high speed. Giriko roared and bared his teeth, fist pulled back as he rushed towards the platform. With a flick of her fingers, Maka sent him flying across the room and into a pile of crates, which splintered open to reveal hundreds of jars filled with blue light. The sound of shattering glass was muted by Giriko's unconscious body, and as the jars were crushed, the aether inside them began to leak out. It gravitated towards Maka's body, swirling around and mixing with the energy in the air to create a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of color, with Maka at the center.

She held her arms out, embracing the aether as it flocked to her, kicking up a heavy wind in its excitement. A shout of alarm rang out, and Maka looked to see Liz pointing to the remains of Aetherion. She followed the mechanic's gaze and gaped in horror.

The sparks from the machine's destruction had nestled in the rotting wood of the platform's foundation, and might have been content to simply smolder and die out if the aether not given them the oxygen they needed. Now the sparks were a flame, and the flame was well on its way to becoming an inferno. The warehouse trembled and the rafters quaked at the sudden onslaught of wind and flame; dread and terror settled upon like lead weights.

"Get out of here!" Soul's voice could barely be heard over the growing howl of the wind and crackling of the fire. "Take everyone and get out!" He waved his hands wildly at Sid and Nygus.

"What about you?" Sid yelled back. "I was not the kind of man to leave anyone behind!" Nygus had already left his side, and was herding everyone she could as quickly as possible. Tsubaki protested, but Nygus merely gripped her arm tightly and dragged her away.

"I'm getting Maka," Soul said with stubborn determination, ignoring Sid's protests. "I am not leaving without her, Sid, now get the others out!"

Sid hesitated a moment, then took off with a grunted curse. Maka could hear the others scramble outside, but all she could see was Soul.

"What are you doing?" she tried to ask, but the words would not come out. She was still imprisoned, after all. Soul slowly began to approach her, hands held up to shield his eyes from debris, and every step he took sent more panic racing through her.

_Don't worry about me, I'm lost_, she wanted to tell him. _Save yourself, help the others. Can't you see I'm gone?_

"I know you're in there, Maka," Soul said, and Maka's jaw dropped. Had he heard her thoughts? But his eyes were straight ahead, fixed on the hurricane that her body had become. "Don't tell me you're taking the easy way out and giving up on me."

_No! _The defensiveness was reflexive, and with the word came a small surge of strength.

"Fight, Maka," he said, and there was a raw quality to his voice that made her want to reach out to him, to wrap her arms around him and say _I'm here._ "You always fight, so _do it!_" He was screaming at her with shining eyes. "Fight for yourself, fight for your friends… fight for me. Don't you _dare_ give up!"

Looking at him then, Maka's heart swelled with emotions she couldn't name, and she began punding against her glass cage with all the strength she had. _No , let me out, let me out! You can't control me, you can't take away my body or my power. You don't control me. I control _you!

It was like throwing herself against a brick wall - no matter how many times she struck it, the glass would not break. With a scream of frustration, she lashed out again, but this time, the smallest crack appeared.

_I'm coming, Soul. I'm coming, wait for me!_

"Come back," he told her, and though he'd meant for it to be an order, there was too much fear in his voice.

With a scream she threw herself forward, pounding at the crack for all she was worth. "Let me out!" she screamed. "_Let me out_"

The aether's prison held fast, but its strength was nothing but a flickering candle to Maka's raging, forest fire desperation. For all its power, it lacked one thing: emotion. There was no drive behind its action, nothing other than cold, eye-for-an-eye justice.

Maka had love.

_I will not die here_, she told herself. _I will not leave everyone behind, I will not leave my friends behind! _She threw herself against the glass, pried her fingers into the growing cracks and pulled until she thought she might fly apart.

"Come back to me. Please." Soul's words were quiet as he climbed the stairs to the platform, the wind tearing at his hair and clothes. The fire raged behind them both, but he showed no fear of the flames - only fear for her. "Please."

The word resonated inside her, growing and growing to fill her up to the brim. With a great yell, with the quiet word steeped in her bones, she burst through her prison and poured back inside herself.

Her body jerked violently as the aether fought her, but Maka was in her domain now. She seized control and refused to let go, her teeth grinding together and her muscles stiff as she acclimated to her own body.

"Maka?" Soul was in front of her now, watching her with concern. "Is… is that you?"

She could barely manage a faint nod. "It's still here, inside me," she croaked. "Fighting."

"Fight back!" He took a step forward, mindless of the heat she could feel radiating from not only behind her, but her very own skin.

"I am." She groaned, her head rolling back. The aether raced through veins, building up and pushing against her insides. She pushed back, trying to expel it through the very door it had entered through, but the aether liked the taste of her. It had a vessel now, a conduit, and it was reluctant to part with her. "Won't go out."

"Maka, look at me." She was only just able to obey. "Let it go," he ordered, and since when had he been so close to her? He reached a hand out to touch her cheek, then drew back with a hiss. An angry red burn blossomed on his fingertips. She was burning, she realized. Burning from the inside out.

"You need to go." Her fingernails dug into her palms. "Before I hurt you."

"_No_," he said fiercely. "I won't."

"Help the others," she insisted, and every word felt like a battle. "I can hold it back as long as I can."

"What if you can't?" he asked. "What then?"

"You'll be safe," Maka said. "That's all I want."

"What about what I want?"

"Soul, I don't know if I can-" She broke off as something clenched tightly around her heart. "Oh God, Soul, I can't!"

"You can," he said, and then he was cradling her face in his hands. She tried to pull away, but he would not let her go, regardless of the heat. "I know you can."

"Soul, stop, no, get back-"

"Fight!" he insisted again. "You get it out, I know you can do this!"

Tears spilled down her cheeks and hissed away into steam. How could he have so much faith in her? How could he stand here, unafraid and unwavering?

She looked into his eyes then, and what she saw there left her breathless. She knew the answer then. She knew why he was there.

"Get out," she said in a low voice, screwing her eyes shut. "Get out, get out!"

"I told you, I won't-"

But she wasn't talking to him. The aether hissed and buzzed inside her, angry at having been denied their conduit, and as it swarmed again, she swayed with dizziness. Soul's hand caught her shoulder, and though he tried to hide it, she heard his hiss of pain.

She drew back sharply, and when he tried to take another step forward, she cried, "No, don't touch me! I can do this, I will do this, but you can't touch me!" That pain, at least, she could spare him.

He cast her an unhappy look, but complied. Once she was sure he was out of immediate danger, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

There was too much energy inside her. More power than she'd ever held before pulsed in her veins, and it was all too happy to remain where it was. It had its hooks in her now - if it didn't leave her soon, she would burn.

The aether didn't belong in her. It didn't belong, and she would use that against it.

_You can't have me_, she told it. _I'm not yours_. _I'm not anyone's, and I am not yours! This is not your place, has never been your place, and I will have myself again. Now _get out!

Pushing and shoving, she threw whatever energy she could find out the door. She ripped at her insides, clawing and scraping and dislodging anything she touched. As she dived within herself, she pictured her mama, the woman who had taught her that it was alright to be afraid, but that it was never alright to turn her back on someone who needed help. Her mama, who had longed for a life outside of the one she had. Her mama, who was gone.

The buzzing in her head cleared, and to Maka's surprise, she realized that the aether had retreated. It was not much, but Maka felt more like herself, and she wondered if the memory had been the thing to trigger it. Perhaps the aether didn't like to be reminded that Maka was a person, that she was more than her Grigori soul.

Quickly she thought of Blair, the woman she'd been so determined to hate, but had never been able to. She thought of the ever-present twinkle in her eye, of the playful smirk she always wore, of the kind words that had seemed so out of place coming from her.

Maka thought of her papa, of his disappointing behavior, of that silly, simpering smile he always wore for her. She recalled the day when she was five and had tried to climb the wrought-iron fence surrounding Number 13, how her papa had wailed when she'd scraped her knee, and how Maka had barely made a sound at all. Her mama's hands had been soft as she bandaged the skin, and her voice had been sweet as she had reassured her husband.

The aether pulled back even more, and Maka was relentless in her pursuit. She bombarded the foreign energy with pieces of herself, one memory after another:

The bite of the cold wind across her face as she raced.

The feel of Soul's hand against her waist.

The laughter in her throat as she watched Kim scold Ox.

The crinkle around her eyes as she smiled at Tsubaki.

The musty smell of the books she loved so much.

The warmth of her axel beneath her.

The look in Soul's eyes.

The memories flooded her senses and overwhelmed the aether, beating it back and purging it from her body in waves. Even still it tried to creep back in, but Maka felt a hand wrap around her own and squeeze.

She opened her eyes and saw Soul standing next to her, but before she could say anything, he shook his head and pointed towards the center of the room.

A great, roiling cloud of aether was amassed in front of them, and as Maka watched, the edges began to dissolve and flake away into the open air. She let out a shuddering breath, and a faint blue glow escaped her mouth and floated up to join the cloud. With its departure, Maka realized that the buzzing had gone with it, and the burning was no more.

"Is it-" Soul started to ask, but a loud _crack_ interrupted him. Both looked up to see one of the main rafters sagging dangerously, and Maka realized that while the aether was gone, they were far from safe. The fire raged on around them, and if they didn't leave the warehouse soon, they were sure to be buried with it.

"Yes, now go!" She shoved at him, and he caught her arm as he stumbled down the stairs. They raced across the warehouse floor, wincing at every crack and ominous groan the foundations let out. Heat prickled her skin and smoke invaded her lungs, but Maka did not stop.

A crash sounded to her left as a section of roof caved it; Maka shrieked in alarm and tripped, bumping into Soul. He grabbed her elbow and hauled her upright, pushing her forwards as they lunged for the door. Flames loomed on either side, licking the air as it tried to taste the meal to come. Maka's vision began to narrow as they drew nearer to the doors, and even though every muscle in her body ached, she pushed herself forward. They were so close…

Together they shoved the doors open and plunged into the cold London night.

* * *

><p>The ground seemed to heave and buckle under Maka's feet as she ran, threatening to topple her with every step she took. Only Soul's hand, slippery with sweat and a hot sticky substance that felt eerily like blood, kept her from stumbling. Her lungs burned and her side ached, but Soul would not let her go.<p>

A great cracking sound cut the air behind them, causing Maka to flinch and grip Soul's hand tighter. A series of groans and shrieks followed after, and a swelling wave of searing heat enveloped them in its dry embrace. Maka gasped at the pressure and thought her skin might crack open.

Seconds later, Soul was tackling her to the ground, covering her body with his and forcing her head underneath his arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and with her one free hand, grasped his arm and pulled it tight to her.

A massive roar of wood and flame signaled the collapse of the warehouse behind them, belching out smoke in its death throes. A cloud of soot and ash billowed outward, washing over everything and coating them in a fine layer of dirt and grit.

The quiet that came after was almost sinister, and Soul wouldn't let Maka up for a few minutes after it had settled. It took a great deal of pushing on her part for him to move, and even then, it was only after he'd had a good look around that he uncovered her.

If Maka hadn't been so exhausted and terrified, she might have laughed at his appearance. The soot had turned his pure white hair a pale gray, and though Maka had never once thought his appearance elderly, in that moment he looked older than she'd ever seen him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse and choked with dust.

Maka nodded. "I… think so." She sounded just as raspy as he. Her gaze drifted past his shoulder, and she gaped at the destruction behind him. The destruction _she_ had caused.

He looked back as well. "It's done," he said heavily, and he turned back to her. "You did what you had to do."

"Did I?" she murmured. "It wasn't truly me."

"Oi." He touched her cheek gently, guiding her gaze to him. "You're here now. And you're safe."

"Where are the others?" she asked, taking his hand so he could pull her upright, swallowing down the sour taste in her mouth as she tried to push the guilt from her mind. She craned her neck, peering through the dark cloaking the refinery before them. The remnants of the fire burning behind them cast orange light over patches of ground; it was in one of these spaces that she caught a glimpse of Spartoi. "There!" she cried, pointing them out.

Soul took her hand once more and together they limped across the ground, bruises throbbing and scratches burning. Dirt, sweat, and blood caked her skin, a symbol of their hard-earned victory. Maka accepted the lumps and the grime with her head held high, even though her insides were still roiling. They were alive, both of them. That was all she needed.

A great cry arose as Kim spotted them, and Black*Star and Tsubaki rushed forward to help support the two partners. Soul hissed uncomfortably and Black*Star's hand brushed a little too close to the open cut on his arm, and Maka bit her lip as Tsubaki's grip pressed against a blossoming bruise on her upper arm. The pain was quickly shoved aside as she caught sight of her friends' faces - something was very, very wrong.

Her eyes skimmed the group before her, taking a mental count as she visually assessed everyone's condition. To her relief, no one seemed in immediate danger of bleeding out or losing consciousness, though Jackie and Ox seemed a little worse for wear. But even still all eyes were on her, and they looked much too grim to hold anything but bad news.

Maka's thoughts screeched to a halt as her tally came up short - someone was missing from their ranks. Her stomach dropped and her throat dried up as she asked a question she desperately hoped she didn't know the answer to: "Where's Blair?"

A thick, tense silence was her only reply. She pulled away from Tsubaki, stumbling slightly as she shook her head frantically, stubbornly refusing her friend's support. "No," she said, and her voice was nothing more than a cracked whisper. "No, do _not_ look at me like that. Where is she? _Where is she?!_"

"She was one of the first ones out," Kilik explained, his arm held tightly to his side. "And she helped the rest of us get to safety. But when she saw that you were still in there…"

"Blair ran in after you," Sid finished, half his chest torn open to reveal the gears that ticked away inside. "She's still in there."

Maka whirled around, fists clenched in the skirts of her dress as she watched the dying fire consume the remains of the warehouse. It wasn't until hands clamped around her shoulders that she realized she had been moving towards the remains of the building, and she looked back to see that Soul had broken from Black*Star's grip to hold her back. "You can't," he said, eyes terrified and voice desperate. "It's too dangerous!"

"Let me go; I can't just leave her in there!" Maka cried, but exhaustion had taken root in her bones. Every movement felt like swimming through quicksand, despite the pounding urgency in her heart. With a snarl she pushed the tired aches away; she would tear up every board in the place if she had to, no matter the physical cost.

A second pair of hands took her arm, a burly shoulder slipping under hers to hold her up. Black*Star's piercing gaze met hers, his voice deadly serious. "We can get her out, Maka, but we have to know where she is. Can you see her?"

In seconds Maka had closed her eyes and delved deep inside herself, tearing and scratching as she reached for the tired, worn-out little bead that was her soul perception. When she opened her eyes her vision swam and flickered, like a gas-light sputtering on its last supply of fuel. Gradually it sharpened, the fuzzy spots clearing away as several orbs of light popped into existence within the wreckage of the warehouse. "There are others in the warehouse!" she exclaimed, her legs nearly giving way beneath her.

Black*Star grunted as he propped her up. "Can you find Blair?"

Maka's head pounded with the effort to maintain her perception, as her soul had been greatly overextended that night. But Blair was depending on her, so Maka would search and search until she had nothing more left to give. Around a dozen souls floated within the debris, but every one that she saw was tainted an unhealthy red. Several of Arachnophobia's forces had been caught in the destruction, and with every passing second another soul trembled violently and began to flake away into the shimmering air.

"Blair," Maka whispered desperately. "Where are you?" Her eyes darted back and forth, checking soul after soul for that pure blue that was unmistakably Blair.

Just when her vision began to tunnel under the strain, she found it. Near the back corner underneath a propped-up rafter, a small blue soul hovered gently. "I found her!" she cried, voice cracking. "There in the back right, under the rafter!"

Black*Star's bulky frame disappeared and was replaced by Tsubaki as he and Kilik sprinted away, their paths curving out slightly to avoid the most active areas of flame. Together they drew their collars over their mouths, bodies swaying this way and that as they tried to find the best way inside to retrieve Blair. Maka's heart pounded in her throat, her nails digging crescent shapes into her palms. Soul's hands moved gently across her shoulders, and she reached out to clutch at his arm, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene before her.

"Come on," she murmured. "Blair, please. Get out of there."

_CRACK_.

Time slowed down to a crawl as the rafter perched above Blair's soul split in two and collapsed in a shower of sparks, sending Kilik and Black*Star stumbling back as they dodged errant debris. Maka's eyes did not waver from the little blue soul bobbing within the sea of destruction, until all she could see was the bright light of Blair.

It happened in one terrible, trembling second. The orb stilled abruptly, frozen in time, then slowly, one small piece ripped itself away and dissolved into the air.

Someone began to scream as more and more pieces broke off from Blair's soul and joined the vibrant energy swirling around the collapsed warehouse. Maka lurched forward as all the strength returned to her limbs at once, but Soul and Tsubaki held her back. Dimly she realized that she was the one screaming.

Just as quickly as it had returned, her strength vanished. Maka's knees gave out underneath her and she collapsed to her knees, hot tears clearing clean tracks down her face. Her whole body trembled, but still she did not look away from what remained of Blair's soul.

She wanted more than anything to run forward and dig Blair out, to pull her free of the wreckage, but she knew better than anyone what the sight before her meant. Blair was gone, and there was no getting her back. The aether had come back to itself, the cycle starting anew, and there was no reversing the process.

Life for life. Was this the price for her actions? Maka felt like she was choking on her own breath, sobs clogging her throat as guilt poisoned her stomach. "Why?" she asked, her voice nearly inaudible. "Why would she go back?"

"She loved you," Sid replied simply, and she felt his heavy metal hand touch her shoulder gently. "She wasn't the type of person who could stay away."

"I know. I know, and I hate her for that." Maka sucked in a shuddering breath, chest constricting tightly. "I hate her." But of course that wasn't true.

The aether glowed brightly in the late autumn air, spiraling higher and higher like the beacons used to signal the zeppelins that flew overhead. Maka watched as the energy danced and played, heart thumping painfully against her ribcage. Just as she was about to look away, a single tendril of light curled outward towards Maka, like a fern frond blooming all at once. The energy seemed to call out to her - a series of notes that resonated inside her - and though Maka had never been one for music, she understood the meaning of the chords perfectly.

"Goodbye, Blair, my friend," she said quietly. "May we meet again."


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

Two Weeks Later

Small puddles of sooty, blackened snow squelched underfoot as Maka made her way down the quiet street, hands shoved into coat pockets and head tucked down against the lazy snowflakes that drifted to earth. Once she might have stopped and craned her neck back to stare up at the stormy gray clouds above, a smile curling her lips before her tongue darted out to taste the flakes gifted from the sky. But those were brighter days.

Now she simply walked on, body hunched against the cold. The temperature had dropped drastically in the past few days as London descended into the beginning of winter, and snow had quickly become commonplace within the streets. It made traveling that much harder as black ice latched onto curbs and snow melted just enough to create slick patches on the pavement, but Maka didn't mind. Whatever kept her thoughts preoccupied was welcome.

Racing would have been a nice distraction, but Maka had not been able to since that night. Seeing her axel propped against the warehouse wall brought to mind visions of rusty garden sheds and cucumber sandwiches, which made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Despite her love for the circuits, she could not bring herself to race, and so most of her time was spent running errands for Spartoi, delivering packages and messages and picking up whatever management needed. Even now a thick envelope full of papers was tucked under her arm, her last delivery of the day before Nygus would send her home.

With a sigh, Maka pushed forward, her heavy boots kicking away larger chunks of ice. A small gust of wind kicked up briefly and she shivered, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. The warehouse was not too far away now, and Tsubaki was sure to have a mug of her special mulled cider warmed and waiting.

"Mrow."

Maka was not sure what made her stop - it certainly hadn't been the first time she had heard a feral cat pleading for help as the nights grew cold and icy. But there was something too plaintive about the cry, something small and insistent that had her pausing just for a moment.

A moment was all the creature needed. A black blur darted across the ground and before Maka could do anything more than squeak in surprise, tiny claws had sunk into her tights and the cat was climbing her like a tree. A second later it had burrowed underneath her coat and its head popped up out of her collar, luminescent yellow eyes blinking owlishly as it stared.

Maka stumbled back, one foot slipping on a patch of ice. Her arms windmilled desperately in an attempt to keep her balance, and the envelope she was carrying fell to the ground with a wet slap. "What - get out of there, you blasted thing!" She reached up to pull the cat out, but it dodged her fingers and ducked back inside her coat, its wet fur seeping onto the fabric of her bodice.

"Mrow." It sounded almost indignant now, as though it were Maka's fault that they were in this little predicament.

"Do not meow at me like that," Maka frowned. "I'm not the one who climbed into my coat."

"Mrow." The cat reappeared, paws clinging to her collar, two enormous ears twitching as the tips brushed her neck. Maka pulled her her chin back as far as she could to get a better look at the creature that now shared her coat.

It was small for a kitten, with blue-black fur that shone even in the washed-out gray light of the afternoon. Oversized paws kneaded the ruffles around her collar as its trembling body burrowed closer, its cold nose pressing against the bare skin of Maka's neck.

Her heart slowly melted as she watched the kitten, her hand reaching up tentatively to stroke its head. Its purrs rumbled through her chest as yellow eyes narrowed in pleasure, and Maka knew she could not leave the cat behind.

"I have no idea what I am going to do with you," she grumbled, but it was only half-hearted. "But I suppose I can't leave you to freeze, can I?"

"Mrow."

Carefully she bent down, one hand covering the kitten protectively as she scooped up the envelope she had dropped. The cat clung to her, claws digging into the fabric of her dress, but its purring never ceased. "Well, come on then," she said, starting back down along the road. "Let's find you someplace warm."

By the time Maka turned down the side alley behind the Spartoi warehouse, the kitten had warmed up considerably and was wiggling around inside Maka's coat, eager for escape. "Hold _on_," she grunted, pressing the button to raise the garage door. The cat's ears flattened at the noise and it burrowed closer to her; Maka could not help but crack a small smile. The motion felt almost unfamiliar on her lips, but not unwelcome.

A rush of heat from the interior gas-lit heaters wrapped around the pair as Maka ducked underneath the door, shaking the snow from her hair and stomping her boots to rid them of ice. Pressing another button next to the door had it pausing, then rolling back down to shut out the cold. The common room was devoid of teammates, but that was not surprising, considering it was late in the afternoon.

Maka tossed the envelope onto the low table by Nygus' office, more concerned with the bundle under her coat than properly delivering the package. For a moment she simply stood there, unsure of how exactly to proceed - what exactly was she going to do for the little cat? - before thinking of the Thompsons. Surely they would know what to do. Better than asking Stein, that was certain.

She had just started crossing the room towards the axel workshop when the back door opened and Soul stepped through, his gaze landing on her immediately. "I thought that might be you. If you're done for the day I'd like to what the hell is that _gerroff!_" He broke off with a squawk as the cat bolted out from underneath Maka's coat and raced across the floor, claws digging into Soul's pant leg as it claw its way to his shoulder and eventually his head, where it sat perched like an overgrown bird within his mop of messy white hair.

Maka could not help the laughter that spilled past her lips at the sight. He looked utterly ridiculous and yet utterly adorable, and the cat looked so absolutely smug that despite the constant heaviness her heart, she laughed until her sides hurt.

Soul froze, watching her with an unreadable look before slowly moving his eyes up to try and see the creature who had claimed his head for its own. "What," he said slowly, hands held out in alarm, "the hell is on top of me."

Maka shed her coat quickly before going over to him and gingerly plucking the animal off his head. It squeaked plaintively at her and squirmed, paws outstretched towards Soul. "It likes you," Maka said, a soft smile on her face as she cradled the little kitten.

"She," Soul corrected automatically. "At least, I think."

"She," Maka repeated, hand stroking automatically across the kitten's head.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask if you're planning on keeping her?"

"She was all alone out there in the cold," Maka protested, clutching the cat tighter to her. "I only wanted to give her some food and someplace warm for the night."

Soul gave her a knowing look. "You aren't leaving her here, I can tell you that."

"What? Why not?"

"The look on your face," Soul replied, an almost fond expression on his. "That kitten's going home with you."

Maka did not even try to protest. How could she, with a purring bundle of fur cradled against her skin? The kitten was certainly clever, attaching herself to Maka as she had. "Yes," she said. "I suppose she is."

Soul shook his head, but there was a knowing smile on his face. "Good. Now come on, there's something I want to show you." He gestured for her to follow him, then disappeared through the back door, leaving Maka to trail behind with the kitten purring contentedly in her arms.

It did not take long for her to figure out where he was leading her, and it was with an apprehensive curiosity that she crossed the threshold into the small piano room she had discovered so long ago, the one he was now indirectly confirming as his. Soul was pulling out the bench as she hovered in the doorway, fingers playing absently with the cat's tail. "Come on," Soul repeated as he caught sight of her. "You wanted to hear me play, didn't you?"

Maka's words were sharper than she had intended. "If you're doing this out of pity-"

"I'm not," Soul said quickly. "I decided a long time ago that I would play for you. I just wanted to make sure it was the right piece. Took a bit longer to find it than I expected," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Some of the anxiety left Maka then, and she tentatively crossed the room to stand by the piano. He gave her a flat look and slid over, patting the space beside him and doubling her heart rate. Slowly she tucked her skirts underneath her with one hand and settled down on the cool wooden bench, much closer to him than was socially appropriate. The kitten did not seem to care and chirped happily as she squirmed out from Maka's grip and settled down somewhere between the two, tail swishing happily.

_Oh, I will never hear the end of this from Blair-_

The thought cut off abruptly and the tingling warmth that had been invading her limbs quickly vanished, sucked out of existence by the sudden melancholy that washed over her. Sometimes she would forget that her maid was no longer waiting for her back at Number 13, only coming to the crashing realization moments later. She hated this - hadn't it been cruel enough, snatching Blair away from her? Why must she be reminded of it every day?

Soul was not the only one to sense her change in mood; the kitten gave a soft 'mrow' and clambered over the layers of her dress to settled squarely on her lap, tiny paws kneading away as she purred loudly. "Thank you, little one," Maka said quietly, eyes slightly misty. She fought them back as best she could; she was here to listen to Soul play, not cry all over him.

"I don't quite have an introduction for this," he began awkwardly, hands fluttering over the keys. "Or even a title, really. So I suppose I'll just… begin."

His hands pressed down on the keys and suddenly his movements were no longer hesitant or unsure. For all his fussing about his ability on a piano, there was no denying that he was made to play the instrument. His song was unconventional, unlike anything Maka had ever heard before. She watched him, entranced by the way he hunched over the keys, body swaying imperceptibly to the music, his entire being thrown completely into his melody.

But it was his music that she truly loved.

Music had never once been something Maka easily understood, but as she sat on the piano bench and listened to Soul play, she had to trouble hearing every emotion that poured from his hands. Sadness, chaos, grief, confusion… every dark thing that had enveloped her soul in the past two weeks was now swirling through the air, contained in every minor chord and clashing rhythm. He had written this song for her, but it was more than that… there was no sympathy in his playing, no attempt to fix or heal her. He was merely giving voice to the emotional burden she had been carrying, and it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from her chest.

Soul understood what she was going through, and he was offering whatever she needed to handle the pain and the grief in her own way. It was quite possibly the kindest thing he could have done for her.

It took her a while to realize that he had stopped playing, so consumed was she in her own thoughts. Soul stared at her apprehensively, though he was doing his best to hide it. She knew better, and gave him a watery smile to ease his nerves. "That was beautiful," she said, reaching up to press away the tears behind her eyes. "You should never be ashamed of your music."

Soul flushed and looked down, once again unsure of what to do with his hands. "I know it's not much," he said, eyes flicking to glance at her. "But I just wanted to let you know that I am still your partner. I am here for you whenever you need me." He turned to look at her straight on then, and the look in his eyes made her heart throb.

"My father wants to marry me off," she blurted out, startled at her own words. Her face flushed as she realized what she was going to say, but she was not going to turn back.

Soul looked at her strangely and nodded. "Yes, I know that."

"He has been looking for suitors for weeks, but…" She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "I want to tell him to stop the search for now."

Soul's face was blank. "Why would… Oh." When he caught the meaningful look in her eye, his cheeks turned bright red. "_Oh._"

Oh indeed. Maka couldn't believe what she was implying, but she was not about to retract her words. She meant every single one - her partner had somehow carved himself a place in her heart, and now it was time to see if she had done the same to him.

It took a few minutes for Soul to find the words. He swallowed once and nodded, his face still pink. "Yes. Yes, that sounds like a wise idea."

Maka ducked her head to hide her own blush. "I will let him know," she said quietly.

"Mrow." The kitten in her lap wiggled impatiently, unhappy at being forgotten for so long. With great effort she crawled out of Maka's lap and tried to start climbing Soul's shirt to reclaim her spot among his unkempt hair. With a half-hearted scowl he detached her, depositing the kitten back onto the skirt of Maka's dress. The cat squeaked as she was set back down, but immediately took interest in one of the small bows that decorated the seam. She sniffed it once and began chewing on it, her eyes screwing shut as she gnawed away.

"What are you going to name her?" Soul asked, watching the both of them with a rare, soft smile.

Maka stroked a finger across the cat's head, bringing her head away from the bow so their gazes locked. Those bright, mischievous yellow eyes looked so hauntingly familiar, and when the name slipped out, it felt as natural as breathing. "Blair."

"Her name is Blair."


End file.
